#it was probably the best worst thing to happen to me today

[sajasbaby]

❪ ⋅ ☽ ⋆ — ┊❛ ​🇾​​🇴​​🇴​​🇳​ ​🇲​​🇮​​🇳​-​🇯​​🇺​​🇳​ ❜ ❫ OTHER DEMONS WERE BUILT FOR a purpose , brought down to the level of Gwi-ma for it. Arsenal seemed to have made his bed a long time ago about this, though Min-jun couldn't say for certain if his deal had been orchestrated by a desire for strength or something entirely different. Every demon had something about themselves. From the richest men to the poorest men, desperation runs thicker than blood congealed from a hunt. Eventually, everyone heard the voices whisper sweet nothings...

      ❝ You'll be taking on a Herculean feat to keep me fed. ❞ Nobody could ever fill the belly of an agwi; the unfortunate who tried would falter and descend to insanity. Min-jun came to terms with his rumbling stomach's condition a year after his arrival, the torn up loneliness and hunger just constants and staples of his lifestyle down below. The only consolation prize for his constant famine was the energy that came with it kept him alive, kept him moving, kept him limber and strong enough to fight back. ❝ They'll appreciate the advice; it'll keep me at bay! ❞

      Prideful demons weren't the worst, though their pride often mixed with wrath, Min-jun had noticed. Insult where they feel most confident and they'll either lash out or verbally talk down to you -- perhaps Arsenal was both. The only saving grace for Baby Saja came from the consistent usage the demon lord felt for them; the day that's over with, he knows that they'll either be cast aside or hunted down by everyone who finally felt free of the Saja curse. It's amusing, wondering how long it'd take for their patience to run out and attempt it sooner.

      Eugh... As long as he focused on the others and not him, he'd be fine with him training them. Min-jun didn't particularly care for fighting, the whole appeal of it lost to him. Someone doesn't spend most of their time clawing and scratching and digging and screaming for their lives in fights and come out jovial over it. Every altercation bled into survival, a desperate need for it, his cheeks caked in crimson ichor, blackened by demonic plague. Maybe Abby would enjoy a combat-fueled training session, but Baby? He'd rather just watch it happen and not involve himself...

      Attack only when there's an opening, attack only when there's danger, attack only when there's no other choice... The shade was his friend down below, but as his saturated locks met the warmth of the sun here, he didn't feel the need to slip behind cover. Too many witnesses, too many people, but nobody to attempt harm! If he weren't on a mission to complete a song for souls, he might have relished the idea of just lying down in the light and taking a nap.

      Arsenal would probably never agree to that demand, however. Even if he were to offer it after a large meal where both their stomachs were full (never would happen), he didn't look the type to lie down and take a warm nap...

      ❝ That's great news, because I could really use a juicy one today! ❞ He kept his pace slower, reserving energy for any emergencies. He didn't mind a little space behind him. Any sudden jabs and he'd rather be out of reaching distance ; it'd work best in his favor not to anger him, but he could never be sure with a firecracker.

      A hand raising to lips as he yawned, he glanced around them, humming in thought. Whatever way they chose to accomplish this, he'd likely stand back and let other conduct himself; a Saja Boy caught out in the open with blood on his features would be bad publicity -- even worse than a scandal...

      ❝ You ever get bored being Gwi-ma's...uh, what's it called? ❞ Dog? Lap dog? Mutt? Assistant? All sounded demeaning, though he didn't quite have the correct occupation in mind. ❝ ...Stand around and do things for him guy? ❞

NOW,  ARSENAL  IS  NO  fool.  he  has  lived  and  fought  long  enough  to  understand  the  fact  that  others  will  always  hide  things  -  especially  from  him.  he  has  seen  the  way  heads  duck  down  or  bodies  scurry  from  him,  how  they  seldom  meet  him  in  the  middle:  they  are  so  scared  that  they  will  have  him  chase  them,  have  him  take  them  to  the  ground,  have  him  tear  them  asunder  to  rip  the  truth  from  their  parted  ribs  -  all  of  this  to  say,  he  knows  when  someone  hides  things.  he  knows  when  someone  is  ready  to  run.   all  of  this  is  brushed  aside  when  the  kid  mentions  better  not  being  interesting.  for  all  of  a  moment,  arsenal  lets  himself  snicker  and  tip  his  head  to  the  side,  lets  himself  lean  forward  just  enough  to  invade  the  other’s  space  for  a  split-second  and  meet  his  tipped  back  head  with  a  looming  glare  of  his  own:  

  ❝  nah,  ❞  arsenal  replies,    ❝  it’s  way  more  interesting.  ❞ the  pride  in  his  voice  would  fill  the  deepest  ocean  trench  to  its  cusp,  then  overflow  twice  more.  there’s  a  rumbling  there  too,  rising  from  the  depths  of  his  being  -  like  a  tiger’s  lowest  warning,  ‘watch  yourself.’   ❝  course  we  can’t  be  trusted,  ❞  the  older  demon  agrees  with  a  hum.  he  leans  back  from  the  other’s  space  and  taps  his  foot  against  the  ground.  his  rhythm  remains  too  quick,  too  unsteady.  his  body  cannot  make  up  its  mind  between  wanting  to  go  as  fast  as  it  can  and  wanting  to  sit  back,  relax,  observe.  such  is  a  consequence  of  his  nature:  he  cannot  simply  be.  he  must  instead  be  in  motion,  always.  ❝  it’s  just  the  nature  of  things.  ❞  such  is  the  same  thing  he’s  said  to  those  he’s  devoured  in  their  final  moments,  to  those  he’s  fought  as  his  boot  rested  on  their  neck.   whereas  the  younger  hops  out  through  the  door  to  greet  the  sunlight,  arsenal  steps  out  into  the  daylight  with  his  hand  held  over  his  eyes  like  a  visor.  he’s  gotten  used  to  the  harsh  light  of  the  sun  over  the  past  few  centuries,  but  today  still  stings.  he  huffs  out  a  curse  and  follows  the  maknae  of  the  group  out.  if  nothing  else,  the  heat  of  the  day  is  a  pleasant  change  from  the  saja  boys  dwellings  and  from  the  underworld:  gwi-ma’s  heat  is  impossible  and  damning,  but  the  sun  is  a  little  more  forgiving.  it,  at  least,  does  not  shame  one  for  going  to  the  shade.  

  ❝  i’d  just  prefer  it  if  you  lot  weren’t  fucking  starving,  ❞  arsenal  grumbles,  shoving  his  hands  into  his  pockets.    ❝  easier  to  fight  when  you’re  not  losing  your  mind  from  hunger.  ❞  of  course  it  is.  he  knows  this  better  than  anyone  else.  let  it  be  known:  the  first  lesson  the  world  ever  taught  him  was  how  to  starve.   how  fitting  it  is  that  the  next  topic  they  broach  is  combat  proper.  arsenal’s  grin  gains  a  genuine  edge  to  it,  his  voice  betraying  a  tepid  excitement  -    ❝  not  a  bad  idea,  really.  probably  should  make  sure  that  you  all  know  how  to  handle  yourselves…  ❞  he  rolls  the  thought  over  in  his  head  for  a  moment,  forming  a  handful  of  exercises  in  a  matter  of  seconds  -  then  tucking  it  to  the  side  mentally,  refocusing  on  the  task  at  hand.  food  for  the  lyricist.  hunting.  finally,  he  thinks,  something  he  can  have  fun  with  out  here.     arsenal  raises  a  brow  at  the  praise,  one  step  ahead  of  the  maknae  and  now  looking  over  his  shoulder  to  him.  ❝  course  i  am,  ❞  he  rolls  his  eyes,  takes  his  right  hand  from  his  pocket  and  runs  it  through  his  hair.  he’ll  probably  have  to  re-tie  it  at  some  point;  strands  are  starting  to  come  loose,  but…  eh,  that  can  wait  for  after  the  hunt.   ❝  you  don’t  live  as  long  as  i  have  without  being  the  best  at  something,  brat.  ❞     for  him,  evidently,  something  is  slaughter.  

[flowersandspacestuff]

So, earlier today my brain spewed up a thought and I was gonna make a post that said "I can't stop going until I can't keep going anymore", but I didn't bc I was kind of manic panicking and driving to the coast on a whim, even though I probably should have just been taking a break and breathing a bit.

And yaknow what happened? Three quarters of the way to the coast, my car died.

And when I say died, I mean, it is not coming back kind of died.

Moral of the story: When you refuse to learn a lesson even though you know better, that lesson is gonna find a way to learn you.

[the-sparkling-diamond-satine]

21. Friends hear through hotel walls? (Arabia and Ivy) for the WIP Ask Game !!!!!!!!!

Send me an ask from my WIP List and I'll post a little snippet or tell you something about it!

Ack sorry in advance this one is... Not Fun??? *hides under my desk* idk where this idea came from but I ended up writing it as a way to feel more comfortable writing Arabia/Ivy (there's nothing quite like putting character's in a crisis to get to know them better I guess??). Anyways, idk if I'm gonna post this one because everyone will banish me to angst jail and attack me with hammers and mean comments haha. But uh, here you go?? Enjoy???? (abuse tw)

Arabella curls up into a ball with her back against the headboard, trying to make herself as small as possible, trying to get away from the awful sounds coming from the next room, now entirely unmistakable as Satine’s boyfriend hitting her while she begs for him to stop. “You’re okay, Bella,” Ivy murmurs, momentarily covering the receiver with one hand while she rubs Arabella’s leg with the other. “They’re on the way. They’ll be here in a few minutes. It’s going to be okay.” Arabella shakes her head; she can’t seem to stop trembling, but it feels like it’s happening to someone else. Something glass shatters next door and Satine sobs and Arabella thinks she’s going to be sick right here on the mattress. Nothing about this is okay. She wants to lean closer to her girlfriend but she can’t seem to make herself move; besides, everything inside her is screaming at her to get away from everyone. Arabella covers her ears and squeezes her eyes shut tight, trying to block out the sound of her friend’s suffering, feeling guilty all the while that she has this option. There’s another loud thump from next door and Satine’s voice cuts off mid-scream. Ivy drops the receiver, her hand stilling on Arabella’s knee. For a moment neither of them moves or even dares to breathe, both imagining the worst. It turns out there is a more horrible noise than her friend’s cries for help, and that’s them going abruptly, horrifically, bone-chillingly silent.

[orcelito]

Working on my new routine for the semester. Since nail care is something I've grown to care about in the time since I previously kept up with playing violin, I need to be pretty consistent with it. I can't have Any amount long nails on my left hand if I want to be able to keep my finger positioning good. It's best when the fingertip is straight down. You just can't have that with long nails.

When I was younger, I kept up with that demand by biting my nails. It was a bad, bad habit that lasted for a good long while. I think it was definitely encouraged bc of the need for short nails with violin, but the true cause of it was imperfections on my nails. I found a few years back that if I keep my nails filed smoothly, then I won't be tempted to bite them, no matter what length they are.

Which brings us to now. How to not fall back on my old habit of nail biting, but make sure my nails don't get too long for violin? And the answer... is to file them every weekend.

See, I've thought up a system. I also want to keep painting my nails, bc I rly love having painted nails, and So. On Friday or Saturday, after I'm done with classes for the week, I remove the week's polish and then file the nails short again. Then on Sunday (or, in the case of this weekend, Monday)(whatever the last day is before I go back to classes), I go and paint my nails again. I want to have at least a day between filing and painting to make sure that my nails settle fine and that there aren't any extra little imperfections I need to get at. Will hopefully also reduce the chances of me picking at the sides of my fingers (have not been able to get rid of this part of the habit) for any imperfections from the polish on recently filed nails.

I'm working on the filing right now. I'm finding that it's going faster than last week, at least. Which is good news!!! I probably had more than a week's worth of nail to file last week, so it took longer. But it's not as bad with only a week's worth. I could always trim them too, and that's what I'd usually do, but they really don't grow all that much in just a week's time. Can barely even get the clippers under the nails. I just need to file them back again. Make sure they don't get the chance to actually grow out.

[starmapz]

man's best friend - r. sukuna

❦ biker!ryomen sukuna x biker!f!reader [non-curse au]

❦ oneshot

❝ you know those videos of people falling in love with the pet they didn't want? yeah, turns out your husband sukuna could be the star of one of them. ❞

❦ cw ; 18+ only. mdni. sexual themes. fluff! husband!sukuna. soft!sukuna. part of the love & company series of oneshots but can be read separately.

❦ words ; 1.8k.

main masterlist || love & company masterlist

Shutting the door behind you, you kick your boots off and pad slowly into the house. “Ryo!” You call out in search of your husband, peeking into the kitchen.

He rounds the corner in only a pair of gray sweatpants, every peak and valley of his washboard abs on display. If it were any other day, you would be jumping him in a heartbeat and he knows it. So when you don’t, even as your eyes trail down his body, he approaches you suspiciously.

“Who are you n’ what did you do with my wife?” He asks, a hint of playfulness decorating his tone. He eyes your outfit, still in your riding gear aside from your boots and helmet. You haven’t taken off your leather jacket yet, which is odd.

When his gaze lands on your chest, he narrows his eyes. “You get a third tit at work today?” He asks as he realizes you have a lump hidden beneath your coat. You can’t help your giggles at his stupid joke, shaking your head. The lump shuffles beneath your coat and his eyes go wide.

“You did not,” he deadpans, searching your expression.

Oh, but you did.

“Okay listen, I know you didn’t want a pet until we got a bigger place, but hear me out!” You plead as the lump shuffles more before it finally pokes its tiny little face out from your coat.

Facing Sukuna is the tiniest, most disheveled bundle of fur he’s ever seen. The little kitten is pure black, hair sticking out in every direction and wide green eyes that take in the world as the little furball tilts its head curiously at your husband with a pathetic mewl.

“No. No way, that thing’s gotta be covered in fleas. We talked about a dog,” he shakes his head. “Where did you even find it?”

“Ryo, come on!” You pout at him with a look entirely too similar to the kitten and his glare flickers between the two of you. “I found it in the bushes outside work and my co-worker said it’d been there for a while. I couldn’t leave it!” You insist, pulling the furball gently from within your jacket to hold them tightly to your chest.

He’s probably right about the fleas, but how could you not immediately fall in love with the little kitty as it calmly abides to you holding it like a baby, chewing softly on your gloved thumb as you hold it up to Sukuna.

“We don’t even need a big place to get a cat!” You insist. The kitten stops chewing on your thumb, rounded green eyes turning to stare up at Sukuna as it mewls pleadingly. Sukuna has half a mind to wonder if the kitten can understand you because between the two of you pouting at him, he thinks you have to be conspiring specifically to get him to break.

He sighs dramatically, rubbing the crease between his brows. “Fine. But it’s your responsibility.”

And how is Sukuna ever meant to resist his beautiful wife with the way your eyes light up?

Of course, you knew from the moment you brought the bundle of soot home that Sukuna would cave. What you didn’t expect was the way their dynamic shifted.

After getting cleaned up and visiting the vet, you discovered she’s a sweet little girl and insisted on naming her Jiji, after the cat from Kiki’s Delivery Service. Your husband had more… creative name choices. Pawasaki and Yameowha were among the worst of his horrible bike-related names, but Ducati had to be the one that really took the cake for the one that made you groan the most.

… And it also happened to be the one that stuck.

“Kuna! Have you seen Cati?” At least Cati sounds close to Kitty, right? Peering into the living room, you catch a glimpse of Sukuna laid out over the couch in a black hoodie and gray sweatpants, his arms folded back behind his head and his eyes trained on the TV.

“Yeah, she’s in here,” he replies nonchalantly. Stepping into the room, you look around for her but she’s nowhere to be found. Turning to Sukuna finally, your lips purse and your heart absolutely soars at the sight of the little kitty curled right into the crook of Sukuna’s neck, almost invisible buried in his hoodie.

“Oh. My. God,” you gasp, pulling out your phone to take a photo, which quickly becomes thirty photos to Sukuna’s dismay as his smirk becomes a scowl by the fifteenth. “You two are the cutest things I’ve ever seen. This is gonna be my wallpaper.”

It doesn’t take long for the two to warm up to one another either. Ducati is like his shadow, always following right behind him even as he brushes her off. She’s constantly rubbing against his ankles and mewing for his attention. He doesn’t pay her much mind at first, but his resolve crumbles after only a few weeks.

Brushing your teeth one morning before work, Sukuna walks into the washroom in a red hoodie to grab his razor. As he slips past you, your jaw drops at the realization that Ducati’s little tail is poking out from his hood.

“No way,” you barely manage to mumble through the toothpaste and toothbrush, spitting it out and darting back to your room to grab your phone. It hardly matters that you have toothpaste on your lips still when you need a photo of this right now.

“Your camera roll must be mostly photos of her,” he chides, plugging his razor in.

“You say that like it’s a problem.”

A puff of air leaves his nose in a laugh as he watches your mirth through the mirror. Who is he to deny his wife of having a camera roll full of photos where you can barely make out where your kitten’s limbs start and end?

The day everything changed was when you woke up early enough to see their morning routine. Sukuna got up early to work out and have breakfast before work, while you would practically rush out the door, but your body had other plans today.

The sun warms your cheek as it peeks over the horizon and with a yawn you realize your alarm hasn’t gone off yet. Usually you would just flip over, but a morning with your husband sounds even better.

Slowly shuffling down the hall, you blink sleep from your eyes as you make your way into the kitchen in time to see what might be the funniest thing you’ve ever laid your eyes on.

Sukuna sits down at the table with a breakfast burrito on one plate and another smaller plate in his other hand. He sets it down at the chair beside him with some coffee and your jaw drops when you realize what’s on the smaller plate.

It’s Ducati’s fucking breakfast. He pulls the chair beside him out and pats it before pushing her plate to the edge of the table so that she can reach it.

“No fucking way,” you breathe out. Like a deer in the headlights, Sukuna’s eyes widen, before his expression hardens.

“What? She’s hungry,” he grunts like any of this is normal by any means and he isn’t the cheesiest cat dad on the planet. To think he was a dog person a few months ago.

You burst into laughter as his tough-guy persona crumbles. You may be his princess, but that cat is his queen.

“I need to get my phone, oh my god-”

“Don’t you dare!” He roars, but you’re already racing back to the bedroom in a flurry of giggles. Sukuna sighs, slumping back in the chair as he stares at the ceiling.

“You’re such a sucker,” you tease as you snap another dozen photos of the pair to add to your collection.

“Don’t call me that,” he grumbles, holding his hand up to block the camera’s view of him as though the tattoos on his wrist don’t spell out exactly who he is.

You found out a week later that the next step from breakfast at the table is apparently coming with you on dates.

Finishing up your makeup for your beach day with your husband, you bound over to the door with your duffle bag of towels, sunglasses, and sunscreen ready to go. Sukuna, on the other hand, packed very differently.

Kneeling on the ground, Ducati’s on her side, her fluffy black tail happily swishing back and forth as Sukuna adjusts a harness on her.

“Kuna, as cute as that is, I don’t wanna lose her,” you gently scold, deciding you have to put your foot down when it comes to your cat joining you on your beach date.

“We won’t lose her,” he gruffs, scooping her up into his arms. “She has a tracker tag. It’s connected to my phone.”

You have to stifle a laugh. “Right, of course. That’s super normal. Normal people do this with their cats.”

Sukuna glowers, heat rising from his neck up to his cheeks. To think that this is the same man who cuffed you to your bed frame last night that’s now brimming with embarrassment. “She likes being outside,” he grumbles.

“I know she does but I thought the front yard would be as far as she would go,” you sigh, unable to help your smile. “Fine, Ryo. She can join us, but you better watch her like a hawk.”

“Promise, princess,” he agrees, leaning down to kiss your cheek. “Your hickeys r’ showing, by the way.”

You shrug. “My makeup would come off in the water anyway if I tried to cover them and I know you like them,” you smirk. Something dark flashes in his eyes, his free hand that isn’t supporting Ducati in his arms reaching out to rest on your waist. His fingers tighten, his grip sinking into the plush of your skin as he pulls you into him.

“I like when people know you’re mine,” he purrs, eyes lidded. 

“That’s good, because now,” you begin, a gleam in your eye that he recognizes all too well, “people will know that I’m with the big burly biker and his tiny little kitty,” you tease with a grin as you push off of his chest, adjusting your duffle bag over your shoulder. “Come on, you big sucker. Let’s go to the beach.”

Of course, you’ve seen the videos and stories of men who didn’t want a pet later becoming said pet’s best friend, but you could never have imagined that would be your hardened and often cold husband. Especially given that when you had discussed getting a pet, he wanted a big dog like a Rottweiler or a German Shepherd.

Like many other times over the course of your life, he surprises you at every turn as you find him in the kitchen pouring himself a bowl of Cheerios with Ducati atop his shoulders. Another time, you find him doing pushups in your bedroom with the cat laying on his back, earning a raised brow. On rare occasions, he even calls both of you ‘his girls’.

Turns out, Sukuna is a cat guy. And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way, even if it means you’re not Ducati’s favorite.

main masterlist || love & company masterlist

❦ a/n ; was feeling inspired since i adopted my cat a year ago tomorrow and couldn't help but think this would suit this sukuna really well <3 as always, likes, reblogs, and comments are super super appreciated <33

❦ taglist ; OPEN. please comment here or on the masterlist to be added. 18+ only, age must be visible on blog.

@toffeebrat @gojodickbig @4acoffee @billiondollarworth @qyuin

@bxnfire @jayghostedu @favvkiki

writing & format © starmapz. art © too-many-owls. dividers © adornedwithlight & cafekitsune.

[manycolouredglass]

i wish i could take that pretty little face (and shake some sense into you)

author's note: this is slightly inspired by mad by renee rapp, and by inspired i mean, i listened to the song, thought "hey this could be a nice fic," started writing and whatever came out, came out. this is your basic friends? pazzi fic, azzi is feeling every emotion under the motherfucking sun and paige needs to work on her communication and emotional processing skills. yeah, i have no idea if this is any good. let me know about any typos and feedback.

wc: 2.5k

tw: swearing and a very dramatic author

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azzi was three shots in and still isn't feeling any less that when she first walked into teds. three shots in and she still wasn't feeling any less than when paige walked in five minutes after her, looking all unbothered in a plain white tee and jeans, silver chain around her neck, rings on almost every finger. a lesbian wet dream to almost every woman in this bar, a fucking nuisance to her. one who seems to find any goddamn moment she can to hound her about her classes, her rehab, her shot, but can't say what she actually wants to say.

azzi hates that paige is the whole reason she agreed to come out today. the blonde picked another fight with her, something about stealing her clothes, something stupid she never used to get mad at her for. and azzi fell for it, hook, line, and sinker. she started with short little jabs, softened by her signature deadpan humor. but paige kept on pushing, nitpicking at every little thing, and all azzi could feel the blood rushing to her head. she actually yelled. she never yelled. and she pushed paige. shoved her like she wasn't supposed to be her best friend.

the worst thing was that paige stepped closer. like she wanted azzi to try putting her hands on her again. and boy, did azzi want to.

she needs another shot.

maybe another bottle.

she walked towards the bar, absentmindedly ordering a lemon drop. she was forgetting tonight. and maybe today and the last few weeks if she was lucky.

azzi pointedly avoids looking over to where the uconn women's basketball team has congregated, lest someone get the impression that she might want to socialize. it didn't work.

jana slides up next to her, mouth casually sipping from her drink, like she didn't just put herself in a very dangerous position.

"so..."

azzi squints her eyes at nothing (or everything) in particular, knocking back her shot.

"so."

"wanna talk about why you've already had 4 shots and we've barely been here for an hour?"

"no."

"you sure? cause i got some guesses. i was in the dorm when lesbian world war 3 was happening."

azzi grimaces at that. she hates that they had an audience for their fight today, hates that she even let it happen. she hates a lot of things. or doesn't. she swallows some air down, wishes it was vodka.

"there's nothing to talk about. i'm just trying to get drunk. i'm allowed to get drunk."

jana softens at that. "we know you azzi. you don't get drunk for fun. usually the opposite. you get drunk in the silent, slowly destructive way."

"and if i want to slowly destroy myself?"

"you shouldn't. not over something this stupid."

azzi scoffs into her drink which seems to have magically materialized in front of her. she didn't even remember ordering it. this plan was working. "not over someone so stupid."

"azzi, you know what this is, right?"

"know what?"

jana looks over at paige, who's laughing with kk over something... stupid, probably. she'll think of a better word when she's sober. paige looks lit from the inside, all golden and angelic and untouched by whatever warped rage is making a home in azzi's ribs right now. pretty, is azzi's first thought. it always is. asshole is the second one.

she just sighs. "i don't know anything, jana."

jana looks at her with something like pity in her eyes. azzi thinks she might cry so she chugs her drink instead.

she has to get away from jana's knowing gaze. "i'm going to get some air."

jana rests her hand gently on azzi's forearm, stopping her. "azzi. it doesn't have to be this hard. you two were always inevitable."

"we aren't anything, jana. don't know why i thought we could be."

she leaves before she can hear jana's response, figures that was enough metaphorical and vague conversation for today. and sure, azzi isn't an idiot, she knows that whatever she's doing tonight is textbook self destruction, but she can't find it in herself to care.

the cold conneticut air doesn't do much to calm her down, only reminds her how hot her blood is right now and how fast her heartbeat is, despite the fact that all she's done is sit by the bar and mope.

she looks up at the cloudy sky, not a single star in sight. that's rare in a place like storrs, built on basketball, open fields, and probably the odd cow. she thinks it's fitting for a night like tonight.

azzi wishes she has a cigarette right now. she'd never even thought about it before, worried about ruining her athlete's lungs. but now, she wants to watch the smoke leave her lips, smell the ash on her tongue. that feeling of burning in her throat that might make the burning she feels a little lower, near her heart, seem lighter. the lipgloss she put on before coming would leave faint pink imprints on the paper, and the whole scene would be melodramatic enough to match her mood.

she sighs, crossing her arms. at least the sky isn't going to judge her for her wallowing.

suddenly the door bursts open, and paige walks out like the whirlwind she always is.

azzi should've seen this coming.

paige immediately finds her and stomps over with the grace of an elephant.

"azzi."

"paige."

"what are you doing out here?"

three weeks ago, azzi would've felt a light, bubbly feeling at the way paige always manages to find her when she tries to slip away from the group. three weeks ago, paige would've asked the question more vulnerably, like she was scared azzi didn't want to be next to her anymore, and azzi would've looked at her like she was insane for ever thinking that azzi wanted less of her. but that was three weeks ago.

now, paige asks the question tightly, like the words were holding back something angry, raw, and a bit more honest. if she was drunker, azzi would consider poking it with a stick, just to see what kind of tidal wave would come out.

"what do you want, paige?"

paige lets out a little laugh, but it's sharp. "what do i want? azzi, you're the one who's refusing to hang out with the team and standing out here, in the cold, alone, where anything could happen. i couldn't just leave you here while you make stupid decisions."

azzi sighs and imagines stomping out that hypothetical cigarette.

"and why not?"

paige looks a little startled at that. good.

"you're azzi," she says, like it's all she needs to. like her name means a thousand other things when it comes out of paige buecker's mouth. azzi is going to punch her.

"did you come out here to do something other than yell at me, paige?"

"i didn't come here to yell at you."

that sharpness in paige's voice is back and fuck it, azzi wants to push like never before.

"yeah? all you've been doing is arguing with me for the last couple weeks. you can't start a conversation with me without it ending in a fight. you can't even look me in the eye unless we're yelling at each other."

paige looks at her then, and it's the final straw. azzi pushes her shoulders cause she doesn't know what else to do and all she wants is to feel paige underneath her fingers, real and tangible. azzi needs to make sure she didn't somehow lose paige in all the wrong decisions she's made recently.

paige steps closer again. azzi is losing her mind.

she doesn't know if it's drinks or whatever hell of an emotional landscape she's in right now, but she reaches up and grabs paige's face. she meant to do it gently, but her hands are harsher then she expected. her fingertips dig into paige's cheek bones, thumbs pushing into the hollows next to paige's throat. paige just stays there, all soft skin and blue eyes under azzi's claws.

the world blacks out, and azzi wouldn't have even realized paige said something if she wasn't staring at paige's mouth.

"i'm looking at you now, azzi."

she can't handle this. she can't stand here and act like everything is okay when the face of the person who's ruined her everyday since they met is in her hands.

"why are you doing this to me?"

azzi's voice is small. not quiet like it normally is, small. she didn't even know her voice could sound like this. paige has the decency to look shocked at it.

"what?"

"i know i messed up. i shouldn't have kissed you. i'm sorry. i shouldn't have kissed you, and i shouldn't have knocked on your door the next morning, expecting you to want it too. i'm sorry i-"

loved you, she thinks, but that's probably too heavy of a confession for four shots and dirty shirley outside of ted's. especially when paige doesn't even feel it back, the last three weeks clear evidence of that.

if azzi could take back that wretched night in ted's three weeks ago, she would. it was just a moment of weakness for her, nothing worth throwing away years of friendship. paige had looked so pretty under the dying lights, swaying gently to the music. she had her hands on azzi's hips, the ghost of a smile on her lips, and all azzi could think was how close they were and how kissable paige looked. the grenadine from her favorite drink stained her lips the prettiest shade of pink and azzi wanted to know what it tasted like.

she had found out. and paige had kissed her back. and it was everything. any fantasy that sixteen year old azzi could have cooked up paled in comparison to the real thing.

they broke apart, laughing and dancing. it was perfect.

until the next morning, when azzi knocked on her door, hoping to have the conversation that would push them into something more. but paige hadn't even opened the door. she stood on the other side, whispered "go away, azzi," and azzi felt her heart break into million pieces. she's always thought the poets were being a tad dramatic about lost love, but there she was, an open wound in her chest, blood dripping onto the floor, thinking they pretty much hit the nail on the head.

she spent the rest of the day sobbing into a pillow that she realized was paige's halfway through. that made her cry some more. then she realized that she can't act like she lost the love of her life (even though she did), and she had to somehow keep up appearances. she wrestled her pain into something that vaguely resembled a heart, and tried to smile at paige the next day. paige didn't look at her, just mumbled something about the bonnet she left in her room.

ever since, it's felt like she was in a sword fight with paige, words flung like blades. but she's been missing an arm the whole time, and paige has just been cutting off limb after limb until she's become a useless pile of flesh. kind of like that one scene in monty python and the holy grail, but infinitely more tragic.

she's tired. so fucking tired. and she's definitely crying now.

she lets go of paige's face to swipe at her face, and paige sways forward a bit like she was trying to follow her touch.

"i'm sorry i fucked up our friendship, paige. but why are you still punishing me for it? i thought-i thought we'd be okay, we're always okay. or at least we always used to be. i thought you could forget that i wanted you, all of you. i thought we'd be okay. eventually."

azzi crosses her arms around her stomach, hopes that it'll stop everything vulnerable about her from falling out. the tears won't stop coming and paige's face blurs. she looks up again. maybe to find the sky. maybe to find god.

"i know i haven't been great at hiding it. turns out heartbreak is messier than i thought it'd be. but this is just cruel, paige. i'm constantly fighting you. and i don't want to be. i'm pathetic, i'll take any version of you, even if you never say something nice again. so i'm asking you. please stop. i can't take it. i'll let you hurt me forever."

azzi stutters out a breath. paige still hasn't moved. azzi feels a sort of hollowness beneath her ribs, but she doesn't know if it's supposed to be relief.

"azzi. you wanted me?"

the words seem to claw their way out of paige's throat, and azzi whips her head to look at her. there are tears lining her lower lashes, and azzi must be insane because her first thought is still pretty.

"what?"

"you...wanted me? you actually wanted something with me?"

azzi is officially losing her mind, because what the fuck has this conversation become.

"of course i wanted you. i kissed you like i was starving. i've always wanted you."

paige looks down at her hands, her fingers fidgeting a little. she was nervous. azzi gently rested her hand over paige's, stilling her. azzi has a feeling that paige's next words might kill her in the best way. she wants all of paige's attention for it.

"i thought you kissed me cause you were bored or something. or cause you thought it would be fun. i thought you didn't feel anything for me, not like i had for you. i couldn't open the door because i thought you would tell me that the kiss was nice but we'd always just be best friends. only best friends. and it made me so mad, that you could kiss me so casually and not realize that i had been falling for you for years."

paige inhales, and azzi braces herself.

"i'm sorry, azzi. you didn't deserve that. the last thing i ever wanted to do was hurt you."

azzi just stared at her. she's so going to punch paige. and maybe kiss her.

"you are so stupid."

"yeah, i'm realizing that now."

"you put us through hell because what? because you thought i couldn't want you back? that's insane."

"okay-"

"ask any person with eyes, i have been hopelessly pining after you since we met. this might be the stupidest thing anyone's ever done."

"alright, alright, if you're done bashing my questionable emotional intelligence, can i kiss you already?"

azzi just smiles and leans forward. paige meets her halfway and it's everything all over again. she wraps her arms around paige's neck, pressing her body closer, chasing that feeling of home. the kiss is a little salty from both of their tears, but it's also soft and gentle like they had finally understood how much they've both been hurting. they kissed like it could wash away the pain even though azzi knew it couldn't. they had to have a million more conversations, but right now, she felt safe in paige's arms and that was enough.

when they broke apart, paige had on that goofy grin that always preceded one of her more questionable statements.

she kissed azzi's cheek. "wanna be my girl?"

azzi pretended to think. "i don't know. why don't you knock on my door tomorrow morning and find out?"

paige buries her head in the crook of azzi's neck with all the whiny energy of a toddler and azzi really can't justify the warmth that she feels at the motion.

"come on, azzi."

"nope. you can knock on my door. if you know what's good for you, you'll bring donuts."

paige sighs and drops a small peck on azzi's lips.

"alright, baby. anything you want."

[whatifitis]

♡ you happened - LN 4 ♡

Summary: Did I just... fall in love with the worst person to fall in love with?! *crashes out in a grocery store*

WC: 2565

CW: fluff, friends or something to lovers, use of swear words ☝, joke about death/banter, also not proofread and I've veen awake for almost 24 hrs and my last sleep was 4 hours long :D

Your whole life, all you ever heard was “Oh the two of you are so cute together!”, “Just wait, you two were meant to be”, “Never say never!”

Everyone, your family, his family, neighbors, even staff at restaurants and cafes you frequented thought it. Spoken as if it was written in the stars that you and Lando Norris were fated. You’re not kidding when you say that both your families have placed bets on when you two would finally end up dating… turns out the person who gets closest to the day will win $1,000. 

At first, it didn’t really bother you. It was quite easy to get on with life and ignore their antics. But as you grew older, it stopped being a little joke or little bits of hope within them. When you started dating your first boyfriend in high school, your family audibly sighed when you introduced them to him. The audible sigh was only the start as well. Soon they were making sly comments about how your boyfriend didn’t have green eyes like Lando or curly hair. 

When your family continued their behavior with the second boy you brought home, you stopped introducing them. 

The pressure didn’t just affect you and your love life. After some time, you and Lando stopped talking. After being inseparable since you were practically born, the two of you were pushed apart because of your families and their incessant need to hope for something truly insane. 

You think it had been about 9 years of no contact before you and Lando had reconnected. And the only reason that you two had found each other again was because you needed a new roommate and Lando was lonely…

It was awkward at first. The two of you had grown up and completely changed as people. The interests and hobbies you once had as children were now nonexistent in your lives today. Everything has changed: your favorite colors, foods, and movies. 

It took quite some time, but now you two know each other better now. Though Lando is rarely in the city where you two live, he’s always home when he’s there. The man never leaves the house and it was quite concerning at first. You wondered if he was deficient in vitamin D. The doctors probably thought he went out less than a vampire. 

The one thing that really helped the two of you to bond, besides having mandatory hangouts at least once a month, was when you had been infected with a cold and had somehow shared it with Lando. The two of you were almost bedridden for a week. To make sure neither of you would need to be sent to the emergency room, camp was set up in the living room. Who knew being cramped together in the same room for a week would make the two of you best friends again. 

Not only did you guys relearn each other's favorite colors and movies, but now you know his favorite video games and what his life is like. Lando also got to learn about what you studied in university and how you once duetted ‘Everyday’ from High School Musical 2 with Phoebe Bridgers at a bar in Manchester. After sharing this information, Lando had mentioned the fact that he had never seen any of the High School Musical movies. Sure his sisters had played it in the house as kids but he never paid any mind to it. Naturally, you forced him to watch all 3 movies and now his favorite song is ‘You Are the Music in Me’, HUMUHUMUNUKUNUKUAPUA’A was a close second though. 

And because you had forced him to watch all the HSM movies, he made you play some video games with him. After some debating, he had decided that the two of you would play ‘It Takes Two’. He claimed it was a great way to “create moral” and “bond” with each other. The only thing you had gathered was that you and Lando would make a terrible team no matter what you two were doing. 

Sports? Someone would break the other's nose by accident. Video games? A controller was going to get broken. 

You had also learned that the both of you liked to taunt and poke fun at each other in a way that would make others concerned. 

-=+=-

“Don’t you think it’s romantic? Dying for each other?” Lando said, leaning his head back to look at you and smiling cheekily. 

“I’d rather kill you myself, thanks.” you say, rolling your eyes and making Lando let out a chuckle. The chuckle then leads to a coughing fit. This in turn made you laugh and now then the both of you were having a coughing fit. 

Through coughs and grasps for air, Lando said “Karma, bitch.”

Some gaslighting from you may have followed after you’d hit Lando in the face with a pillow. 

“Lando, I swear. The pillow just levitated on its own and hit your face.”

-=+=-

You were sitting in the kitchen, working on your laptop when Lando came in and wandered over to the fridge. You watched as he opened the fridge, analyzed its contents for approximately 2 seconds before closing it and turning to look at you, “Heyyyy, y/n.”

Raising an eyebrow at him, you respond “Heyyy, Lan.”

“So, uhm. Do you wanna go to the market with me? I need something for quick meals and snacks and I could use some company.” 

“You could use some company or are you still scared of the pigeons outside the market door?” you question. 

“Hey! Those beasts are out for blood! I swear on my future dog's life, TWO of them came for my head last time I went.” 

“Sure, big man. Whatever helps you sleep at night.” you say as you stand and walk over to pat his shoulder, “You’re driving though. These narrow roads make me wanna swerve into oncoming traffic.”

“Deal.” Lando says as he follows you out the apartment door. 

-=+=-

Lando had already parked the car and the two of you were walking to the doors of the market. You watched Lando try to “sneakily” tiptoe through the market doors, keeping an eye out for any potential threats (pigeons…). 

He was just halfway through the door when a customer in the store had accidentally dropped a box of cereal. Lando tripped and nearly fell before catching himself and trying to brush off the fact that as a grown man, he was terrified of birds. 

“Smooth.” you tease “Smooooth.”

Lando grabs a basket and walks quickly further into the store. Think it's to say he was at least a little embarrassed by what had just happened. By the time you managed to catch up to him, he was already at the opposite end of the store, browsing the tampons.

“Lan?”

“Yeah?” he says as he turns his attention back to you. 

“Is it that time of the month or something?”

“Nah. Just… looking…observing.”

“Right. I’ll just go and grab some crisps.” you say, pointing somewhere behind him. 

“Oh sick! I’ll go with you.” he says, skipping down the aisles. 

As the two of you debated between some of the options of crisps, the song being played in the market had changed and you’re confident that everyone had heard the gasp that escaped Lando’s mouth when he heard the opening notes of ‘You Are the Music in Me’. 

Before you could even register what was happening, Lando had dropped the basket on the floor and grabbed an abandoned whisk off a shelf, using it as a makeshift microphone for his performance. When it was Gabriella’s turn to sing, Lando turned the “microphone” to you, raising an eyebrow in anticipation. 

Reluctantly, you sang your bit, making a smile erupt on Lando’s face. Half-way through the song, Lando was running and jumping up and down the aisle, dancing and lip syncing to the song. 

You couldn’t help but laugh at his antics. You were also laughing at the realization that he was so embarrassed of being startled by cereal that he ran through the store to hide, but now he’s openly performing in the middle of the store, not caring who could be watching and judging. 

God, I’m in love… shit. 

No, no, no, no. This can’t be happening. 

No way you were in love with Lando Norris. You were never going to live this down. Some people in your family will be $1,000 richer. They will comment on this for the rest of your lives. You will have lost. They will have won. This was forever going to be something they would use against you. 

Fuck. 

After a minute, Lando had noticed the sudden change in your emotions. One second, you were laughing and smiling brightly at him and with him. The next, your face had dropped and turned to stone. Did he do something? Were you embarrassed? Of him?

“Hey, what’s wrong? Did something happen?” Lando questioned, concern drawing his features. 

Too embarrassed to be truthful, you tried to think quickly and faked being agitated. 

“Yeah, you happened. Dumbfuck.” you say as you trudge past the man. 

Lando’s heart dropped. What did he do wrong? You’re clearly upset but he wasn’t sure why. He didn’t know how to fix it. 

He watched your back drift away and out the door of the market, standing with his feet planted in one spot, unable to move and chase after you to make sure you were okay. 

-=+=-

What the fuck did I just do? You thought as you leaned against Lando’s car, rubbing your hands down your face in frustration. 

This is insane. How are you in love with him? You mean,  it’s not that there’s anything wrong with Lando and liking him. But why did you have to be in love with him? Why must you be cursed with eternal mocking and teasing from yours and his family? 

And what were you gonna tell him? You were happy one second then mad the next. You almost yelled at him and ended up pushing past him, hitting his shoulder with yours pretty roughly. You crashed out in the middle of a grocery store…

Before you could come up with a game plan on how to explain this to Lando, or atleast come up with a good lie, Lando was already walking to you and unlocking the car. All he did was spare a quick look at you before getting in the car with the groceries. For the split second your eyes met his, you couldn’t decipher how he was feeling or what he was thinking. It was almost as if there was nothing there. 

When you opened the car door and dropped into your seat, he didn’t say a word. He barely paid you any mind. The whole drive back to the apartment was filled with an uncomfortable silence. His eyes trained on the road, never once moving off the road. If you were in the car any longer, you’re sure you would’ve suffocated under the weight of uncertainty. 

-=+=-

You walked into the apartment with Lando carrying the groceries, tailing you. Not only was the car ride spent in eerie quietness, but so was the walk to the apartment from the car. 

You heard as the front door clicked shut, standing by the kitchen counter and fiddling with your hands and tempted to pick at your nails, a bad habit you’ve had for years. 

Lando put the groceries onto the counter and flicked his eyes to your hands for a second “Stop picking at your nails. S’not good for you.”

Thank god. He spoke. So he’s not upset with you?

You watched as the man leaned his hands against the counter before speaking “So, you gonna tell me what’s wrong?” he says calmly. 

“Hm? Nothing’s wrong.” your voice pitched higher than normal. 

“Bullshit.”

“What?”

“I’m not the smartest person but I’m not stupid either, y/n.” 

“I didn’t say you were.” 

“Okay, so tell me what’s wrong. Everything was fine and then all of a sudden your face and mood had dropped. Not only that but you stormed out of the store after telling me that I happened?” he says, trying not to take his frustration out on you. Though you think he should for the way you had behaved. 

“I- I’m fine, Lan.”

“Stop lying. Please. I don’t like lies, especially not from you cause I can tell when you’re lying. You’re a terrible liar.”

Your jaw drops, “Am not!”

“Please. Remember when you ate that last spring roll and you tried to convince me that a squirrel came in through the window and stole it?”

“Okay, well. I see your point.”

“Exactly” he breathes out “So, what’s wrong? Why are you lying to me?”

With a deep breath and a ‘yolo’ you confess “I think I like you.”

“Why do you sound distressed?”

“Because this is distressing.” you rasp. 

“Why?!”

“Lan, you know our families and their incessant need to butt into our lives and force us together. If they found out, I would never live it down. My whole life, I’ve had to fight the allegations. But now?! Now they will forever taunt us with this information. Also I feel the need to point out that some people will be $1,000 richer because of this. Do you really want to give them that? Do you, Lando? Do You?” you ask, furrowing your eyebrows. 

“Well, I mean… would it be that bad?”

“Huh?”

“Well, I think it would be okay? Like, I don’t think it’s a bad idea. And so what if they tease us for this? It just means that they maybe did some voodoo or paid an etsy witch… or we really are meant for eachother.” Lando says, his voice getting softer the more he spoke, as if he was afraid. Afraid of your reaction, what you would say, how you would feel. 

“I- I mean. There’s nothing wrong with it? I guess it’s just unexpected. And things like that make me panic. I think I blew this really out of proportion.” you wince. 

“Ya think?” Lando laughs “You stormed out the market and almost caused a scene.”

“Yeah… I also didn’t get my favorite ice cream and I’ve been craving it for ages.” 

“Oh, well… I actually got it for you. I remember you saying you’d been craving it and wanted to get you some. It was one of the reasons I asked you to come with me to the market. I also ended up getting it cause I thought it would be brownie points for if I had actually done something wrong. I also got brownies… for extra brownie points.” he, totally nonchalantly, winks at you. 

Maybe this won’t be so bad. You’ll be his and he’ll be yours and it will be simple. You truly did feel a lot for him, which was scary. But it’ll be worth it. It will also be worth all the teasing from your families and friends. When you’re with him, you still get butterflies and that in itself makes up for the lost time. And you won’t lie, you’d missed all those years spent apart. Now you’ve got each other and that’s all that matters. From kids to teenagers to adults, everything changed except for one thing, the love you had for the other.

[kilesplaysthings]

how the boys would react when you have a migraine

ngl i'm a little apprehensive about this one lol and it got LONG o.o Sylus is the fandom's darling, it seems, so i hope i wrote him well ^^;

Xavier | Rafayel | Zayne | Sylus | Caleb

Part IV: Sylus (you/MC x Sylus)

It had been an entire week since you started having one of the worst migraines you'd had in a long time. You did get them every so often, but it had been a while since one had lasted this long. You'd done your best to combat it with medication and sleeping in a cool, dark room, but none of your usual methods worked. It just seemed to be a migraine you had to suffer through. By the end of the week, you'd decided to call off of work for a day to rest. Your migraine was beginning to wear off, but you were utterly exhausted. You felt like you'd run a marathon; either that or gotten hit by a truck.

You were so thankful it was finally the weekend coming up. Since you took the day off of work, you had three days to hide away and sleep for hours on end. Hopefully, you'd be up to going back to work next week.

The lights were off, the AC was down in the low 60s, and you were ready to burrow yourself into the blankets and cut off all contact with the outside world until Monday. Before you were able to surrender yourself to slumber, your phone went off. A glance at the screen indicated it was none other than your boyfriend trying to call you.

"Yes, Sylus?" You answered. It was only mid-afternoon. You were surprised he was awake at this hour.

"I just received a notification from Mephisto," he remarked. "He said you didn't go into work today."

You shook your head, smiling wryly. "Keepin' tabs on me, huh?"

"You know I'm always watching over you, sweetie," he replied with a low laugh. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

Sylus always seemed to be in tune with you when something was amiss, and he always checked to make sure everything was all right. The two of you valued honesty in your relationship, so you told him right away about your awful migraine.

"It's been going on for the whole week and nothing's helping. I'm wiped out." You heaved a deep sigh.

"What are you doing right now?" He asked.

"Not a thing," you answered. "Just lying in bed."

"Are you up for a drive?"

You thought about it for a moment. Your migraine was wearing off by now; it was just a mild, dull ache at this point. More than anything else, you were just fatigued.

"It's all right if you're not," he said when you hesitated.

"No, I think I'll be fine as long as we're just driving in a car, but I don't think I'd be much use for anything else," you told him.

"Don't worry. I promise it will be very relaxing, what I have planned."

Your eyebrows rose up in surprise. "You're planning something? What is it?"

"You'll find out soon enough. I'll be there in about ten minutes."

"Do I have to dress up?" You asked, worried. You really hoped whatever he had prepared wasn't anything too fancy.

"Wear whatever you want, kitten."

The call ended shortly after that. You sat up in bed and looked down at yourself. At the moment, you were in your pajamas. Sylus said you could wear whatever you wanted, so you were going to do just that. At this point, you couldn't care less if he saw you looking like a slob.

You threw on a tshirt, sweats and a hoodie. A pair of slip-on sneakers completed the look. You didn't want to bother with your hair, so you just pulled it back into a bun, and of course, makeup was totally out of the question. However, you did wash your face to freshen up.

You felt your phone vibrate in your hoodie pocket and saw that he texted you:

"I'm here."

When you opened the door, sure enough, there he was in all his 6'2 glory. He gave you a warm smile.

"Hey there, aren't you a sight for sore eyes," you found yourself saying, unable to help the little feeling of glee that ran through you at the sight of him. You'd been together for a while by now, but he still gave you butterflies. Being so tired and achy was probably also a part of your reaction to seeing him. You'd missed him.

He chuckled. "Good to see you too. How are you feeling? Tired?"

You worked up a small smile. "Yeah, but I'll live. This is the best I could do right now," you said, nodding to your outfit. "'S that okay?"

"Of course." His deep voice was gentle, and he reached for your hand. "Come."

You were more than happy to place your hand in his larger one. He kept you close as you both left the apartment, went down the elevator and out of the building. His sleek, black car was parked out front by the entrance. Sylus opened the passenger door for you before he got in on the driver's side. Once you were seated, you noticed the car windows were tinted, most likely to shield you from any aggravating light.

"How's the air?" Sylus asked as he started the car. "Too cold? Too hot?"

You shook your head. "It's fine. I'm comfortable."

"Good." He placed his hand on the back of your neck, massaging it gently with his thumb. "Close your eyes and lay your head back if you want to rest some more."

He pressed a button, and your seat began to recline. You were happy to do as he suggested, feeling quite relaxed, especially when the car began to move. You felt like a restless, sick child, lulled into a peaceful sleepiness from the motion of the vehicle.

The ride lasted for probably twenty minutes or so. When you felt the car come to a stop, you opened your eyes. Sylus was parking in front of an elegant looking building surrounded by flowery hedges and some trees. A sign near the front door indicated that Sylus had taken you to a Spa with a sauna. Your eyes widened.

"A spa?" You exclaimed.

He smirked. "I thought this weary kitten could use some pampering."

He got out of the car and went over to open the door for you.

"You made an appointment for me?" To say you were stunned would be an understatement.

"For us," he corrected. "I though a massage would do me some good."

You giggled. "Oh, I see. You just wanted an excuse to get pampered yourself, I bet."

He huffed a little and smiled, amused. "Think whatever you like. All that matters is that I get to see you smiling like that again."

His sweet words made you blush a little. You grabbed his hand and pulled him along to go inside the building. The secretary at the front desk greeted you with a smile and pulled up the reservation that was under Sylus's name. She checked you both in and led you to a smaller room where you could relax on a couch while you waited for your masseuse. This room was quiet with soft music playing in the background. It was lit with warm lamp light and the soothing smell of essential oils wafted from a nearby diffuser. You were feeling relaxed already.

When it was your turn for the couple's massages, the lady who would treat you called your names. Sylus had ordered a full body couple's massage, complete with facials and aromatherapy. It was the full package, and you decided not to even try to contemplate how much it cost.

Once you were both disrobed, you were asked to lie down on your stomachs on two comfortable beds. You were given towels to cover your more private areas. The lady massaging you focused on your upper back, neck, head and forehead. You had a feeling Sylus had recommended those areas for you specifically.

"How is it?" He asked as you both had your backs massaged. You barely registered his question, nearly asleep.

"Feels amazing," you muttered. You didn't notice the soft smile that came over his face.

"Good."

Once the massage was over, he suggested you both relax in the sauna. As the steam filled up the small room, you leaned against Sylus, resting your head on his shoulder.

"I feel much better," you murmured. You felt his hand rub your upper back around your shoulder blades.

"Then my plan worked perfectly."

"Sylus," you said, looking up at him, "thanks so much. This really helped."

"Of course, sweetie." He leaned in to kiss your cheek.

"Can I stay with you tonight?" You asked after a minute of peaceful silence.

He laughed a little. "You don't need to ask. I was going to suggest it anyway."

You both showered and prepared to leave the spa, with plans to spend the night at one of his houses nearby. By now it was early evening and Sylus assured you dinner would be taken care of by a chef he employed. As the two of you waited for the meal to be prepared, you relaxed on the couch together in front of a lit fireplace.

You were resting on top of him, your head on his broad chest. The sound of his beating heart against your ear was soothing, so much so that you were fighting the urge to fall asleep again.

"Sy, I just want to say, thank you again. You don't know how much these last couple of hours meant to me," you told him quietly, while absently stroking his side.

"You really don't need to thank me, kitten. After all, it was enjoyable for me, too."

You knew he was joking and poked his cheek, peering up at him. "Regardless, I'm so grateful to have such a caring boyfriend like you. What do you say to making this a regular thing? I think spa dates with you would be fun!"

A pleased smile spread over his face, and he stroked your hair. Gazing into your eyes, he said, "I'll look forward to the next time, then."

[a-writer]

Invisible String

My life is going to shit rn so I did this.

Azriel x reader

Summary: Azriel and (Y/N) used to be together, a happy couple. But when Rhys got trapped Under the Mountain, their relationship went south. They still love each other, but they don’t know how to be together and happy again, so they keep spiraling into a toxic dynamic of fucking, jealousy and manipulation.

Warnings: toxic relationship, angst, english is not my first language so Sorry if there are mistakes

The laughs and chatter of people fill your ears as you take your sorroundings in. It’s a Friday night, and the bar is in full swing. Cassian is going about the crazy thing that happened in his last visit to Ilyria, but you can’t concentrate on what he’s saying, because something is missing. Better said, someone is missing. Az is nowhere to be seen, and you’re wondering what could he possibly be doing to not show up to your friends night at Rita’s. He’s probably just busy, right? Busy with paperwork. Rhys seems to love giving us paperwork. That’s a better option than the alternative. That he’s home. With a girl. On his bed. Not exactly talking about the weather. Before you can overthink more, a beer lands right in front of you.

“What’s wrong with you today?” Nesta eyes you suspiciously.

“Me? Nothing, just tired.” You shrug and you can see she’s not buying it. “Cassian has been kicking my ass at training this week.”

Nesta smirks and you wink at her, wishing she drops it already. It’s not like you don’t like talking to her, in fact, she’s your best friend. But you already know where this is going, and you already know what she’s going to say to you. That this is not good for you, that you need to move on, that you’re hurting eachother. And it’s not like she’s wrong, but it’s just complicated. Because this thing that you have, only you and Azriel are capable of understanding it. And, deep down, you kind of love that. Having this little secret that only you two understand.

Nesta opens her mouth to say something, but Rhys’ voice cuts her off. “Look who decided to show up, finally.”

You look at the door, and there he is. In all black, his wings tucked in and a little smile on that perfect face. Azriel enters the bar and suddenly everything seems to slow down. Your eyes track his movements, and your mouth goes dry. He’s so handsome, and he always looks so good. Azriel turns around to look behind him, and you see it. See her. A short girl, long blonde hair and green round eyes. And the worst part, she’s looking at him like Azriel is the last glass of water in the middle of the desert. And Azriel is giving her that sinful smirk that he’s given you so many times. Your heartrate picks up and you feel your hands getting sweaty. This is absurd, it’s not like this hasn’t happened a thousand times.

That’s just how Azriel and you work. You have sex, you give eachother looks from across the room, you tell everyone that you’re just friends and that your relationship ended a long time ago and that you’re completely fine with the other dating other people, eventhough everyone can smell your lies.

You sense your friends eyes on your face and you turn around with a small smile on your face.

“Are you okay?” Feyre asks, compassion on her eyes.

“Sure.” They look at you esceptically. “Oh, gods, guys! Yes, I’m fine. We’ve been broken up for years.”

“Yes, but you still fuck.” Cassian points out and Nesta elbows him on the ribs. “Ow! Hey, it’s the truth! Your relationship is just weird, (Y/N).”

You roll your eyes. “It’s not, it’s just sex.” You look at Feyre. “And I’m fine, I swear. If anything I’m surprised there are still new girls for him to hook up with.”

“You’ll be surprised to know how many females are looking forward to having a date with me.” A deep voice behind you sends a shiver through your back. “Hey, guys. Sorry I’m late, I was… busy.”

You keep your back to him, you don’t think you’re capable of seeing him with his arm around the random girl’s waist.

“This is Fina, by the way.” Azriel introduces her to your group and they sit down next to Feyre and Rhys, right in front of you.

Azriel locks eyes with you and you turn away. Yes, you used to be a couple. And then Rhys was captured by Amarantha and it all went to shit. You loved eachother (hell, you still do), but the situation was too much. The fights, the yelling, the lies, the long nights waiting for him to come home. It was all too much, so you broke up. But, how can you break up with someone who you’re still in love with? You sure as hell have no clue, because even after all these years, when the starts and the moon illuminate Velaris, and your existence weights you down, you still look for him. You seek his comfort, his strong arms, his soft kisses. But that’s not right, because that’s what couples do. So you have sex just to be close to him, to feel like you still have a piece of Azriel, and you rule it out as something casual. No one in the friend group buys your shit, but who cares. It seems to work fine for you both, at least that’s what you tell yourself.

You look up and Azriel still has his eyes on you, only this time he also has blondies’ lips on his neck. You squeeze the beer in between your hands and grind your teeth. Luckily, Nesta sees right through you.

“(Y/N), let’s dance!” She grabs you by the shoulders and before you can say anything, you find yourself in the middle of the dance floor, sandwiched between Nesta and a random dude.

The random behind you plants his hands on your waist. He smells like alcohol and arousal, and you would love to push him away, but Azriel keeps trying and failing to stop looking at you, and you know him too much. You recognize that look, his eyes are sending daggers to the dude behind you, so you grind on him harder. You can see Azriel’s jaw tick, so you smile and turn around. Grabbing random dude by the neck, you thank the gods that he looks hot (not as hot as Azriel, but this will do) and kiss him. He startles a little, but kisses you back eagerly. You separate yourself, mumble something about getting a drink and go before he can say anything.

Nesta is already waiting for you at the bar. “Having fun, mhm?”

“He looks hot.”

“Yes, I’m sure that kiss didn’t have anything to do about the fact that Azriel has brought a girl.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Nes.” You smile sweetly at her and she rolls her eyes, but she smiles too and luckily doesn’t say anything else.

You can’t help but turn around again, and you almost drop the new beer the bartender has given you when you see Azriel approaching. He looks at you when he arrives, but keeps quiet.

“Aaaand that’s my sign to leave. Have a nice chat.” Nesta waves and goes back to your table, where Cassian is trying to keep blondie entertained while Rhys and Feyre are watching you.

“(Y/N).” Azriel takes a step towards you and you take a step back, your back bumping against the bar. “Quite the show you just put on.”

Your nerves go away and are substituted by annoyance. “Me? Five minutes ago you had blondie basically dry humping you in front of the whole bar.”

“You’re jealous?” He puts both hands at your side, trapping you in.

“Please, Az.” You try to act calm. “Don’t flatter yourself that much.”

He laughs and your insides twist at the sound. So familiar, yet so strange at the same time. “Her name is Fina.”

“I don’t care.”

“What’s the asshole’s you just kissed name?”

Now you really look up at him. You’re so close, you can see the angry glint in his eyes. “Are you jealous?”

“Of that dude? Never.” Azriel backs away and you almost take a step towards him. “I know you don’t like him.”

“And how would you know that?” You roll your eyes.

Azriel always does this shit with you. He sleeps around and parades all the girls for the world to see, for you to see. But the moment you exchange a few words with another male, he’s right there. Teasing you about it, making it seem like a joke, like something friends would do. Fuck that. You know he’s angry, and it is so selfish of him. But you can’t help but love it. Having that power over him, it’s not something that happens too often.

“I know you better than you give myself credit for, (Y/N).” He says your name so casual, but a warm feeling spreads in your stomach when you hear it.

“Fuck you, Azriel.”

“You already did, darling.”

You push him lightly on the chest and he grabs your hand. He keeps it there, over his heart, for a few seconds, and suddenly everything stops, everything quiets down. It’s just you and Azriel, and for a moment you wish that it could be this easy, just the both of you. Isn’t loving someone not enough to make it work? Apparently not, at least it wasn’t enough for you two. Your eyes fill with unshed tears, and Azriel’s face softens. The memory is too painful, the feeling too well-known. You take your hand back and everything goes back to its normal pace.

“Enjoy yourself tonight, Azriel.”

You leave him there and head for the door. Not cool not saying goodbye to your friends, but you are just too scared that if you open your mouth the tears will start falling.

The cold air of the street calms you down. You look behind you, to the closed door. He is going to go home with her tonight. Your heart aches and you look up to the sky. Guess some things are never meant to happen.

[twistedpink]

Mc inserts x TWST characters pt.2 (OG post) (Pt.3)

(non-yuu pairings that fit into the plot of twst, if you like this then you might want to look at the first part!)

Savanclaw!Mc x Cater Diamond

Enemies to lovers with your favourite diva!! The two of you compete constantly through magicam and spelldrive, getting progressively pettier until the only solution is to kiss it out.. You’re trying to keep an ear out for your junior, and it just so happens Cater’s sniffing out your plan to go for gold in this year’s tournament. You might as well take the chance to mess with him! It’s so easy to love the face he makes when you give him the slip, and you’re totally making it your wallpaper when this is all over.

“Yo, Babe! If you’re in the same dorm, then you know Ruggie, yeah? We need to have a chat”

“Ohmigod you totally think all beastmen know each other, don’t you?? cancled :)”

Shroud!Mc x Vil Schoenheit

Ids attached himself to engineering and gaming pretty early, but your passion is fully unattainable. You’d clung onto pop idols and the art of stage makeup from an early age. Your longest running interest by far is Vil Schoenheit,, He rescued you from destructive habits and encouraged you to value self improvement. You’ve probably invested millions into his career (every thaumark sent anonymously, you’d die if he started to recognize your attached messages). Supporting Ortho in his SDC audition is your official reason to talk with him, and all the teasing from Idia will be so worth it when your Schoenheit debut palette gets signed! You’ve kept it in mint condition behind glass for years admiring it- and waiting for THE day.

“Mr. Schoenheit? My younger brother performed for you today, and uh, your signature please?”

“Normally I’d send both of you home for this. I’m sure you’re well aware of my paparazzi policy, However, I haven’t seen this particular relic in years! Just what have you done to preserve the quality?”

Pomefiore!Mc x Ruggie Bucchi

You’re #1 in the business of pissing off your parents- shopping copious amounts and then going to school across the country satiated you for awhile, but they’ve done something particularly revenge worthy now. The best scandal you can think of is getting a trashy boytoy to bring home for the break, but you’re not really into idiots.. Ruggie can be a very good actor given the right motivations, and he might even fool you into a real relationship before next semester.

“C’mon it’s not like I’ll need a script, sugar. I’m a natural, scout’s honor!”

“Either way, it won’t hurt to rehearse for convenience :/ Kiss me now so we don’t look stupid later.”

Scarabia!Mc x Floyd leech

God you hate that fish faced idiot >:( It’s bad enough that the housewarden’s moodswings guaranteed your holiday plans were all shot, but now Jamil’s getting hounded by the mafia! It’s your responsibility to get them off his back, but it’s not like you’re enjoying it. Somehow it’s even worse to watch Floyd when he’s playing dumb, and his emotional roller coaster keeps you walking on eggshells. The show must go on though, and if you’ve gotta play “wrestle until the biting stops” then you’ll do it :/

“Floyd, it’s dinner time, and I will tear you a new one if it means you’ll get moving.”

“PLEASEEEE tiger sharky just one more round :( I’ll even give your pen back!!”

Octavinelle!Mc x Kalim Al-Asim

You’re probably one of the most talkative of octavinelle students, and definitely a solid salesman. Kalim’s a prime target for resales and marketing practice, so naturally you join the pop music club. A year of “playing nice for the jackpot” leads you to lie awake at night, terrified that he’ll see through your facade and ditch you- it would cut off your best friendship, you’d be forced to leave the club! At some point you realize you’d stopped selling him things months ago, and your worst nightmare happened right under your nose. You fell in love.

“Hey, that solo was so inspiring! You’re really making progress!”

“It still isn’t on par with yours, though. Are you available to keep practicing after school? I’m sure Jamil would appreciate the break, and I would enjoy the company..”

Staff!Mc x Lilia Vanrouge

Of course your first job would come with some pet bat, it was too good to be true :( Full time at a bits and bobs shop near one of the best schools in the country WITH flexible hours? You must’ve been desperate to accept without reading about your babysitting in the footnote. He comes in everyday during your shift (regardless of the hours you take, it’s like he has a sixth sense), and has the audacity to exist in your space! It’s not like he even does anything to get banned!! He just stands there. Menacingly. You’re waiting for the day where he leaves convincing evidence that he’s there to traffic you or something- because if you didn’t know better you’d think he has a big, fat crush on you.

“Darling, how is the shop? I’ve taken care of those juvenile delinquents for you!”

“Taken care of? Whatever. Get back to class, kid.”

[starconstruction]

Overkill

Jo Yuri x Male Reader (Smut)

Word Count: 3566

Smut tags: hate sex, blowjob, shower sex, pussy eating, creampie, multiple orgasms.

had this idea in my head on first listen, I just took comically long.

stream episode 25 until your headphones explode.

The bar reeked of smoke that leached in from the outside every time the door hung up a second longer than it should have. The entire place was miserable, people drowning in alcohol to avoid the plights of their sorrows.

That was the same tale for you, a glass of vodka sat firmly in your grasp, nearly finished already. You've done some pretty fucked up things in your time, so honestly it's your fault that you sat here alone on this Friday night.

The vast majority of people had their heads in their hands, wallowing in their grief, the ones who didn't were clearly talking to strangers with nothing in common. God you needed to smoke, throwing the rest of the vodka down your throat.

You excused yourself out of the booth, giving it to some scrawny dude and his friends.

"Here lad, cheers for the overfill." The bartender looked in shock when the small bill slid into his hand, maybe it was to make yourself feel better. Stroke your own ego a little bit, the motivation doesn't make the action.

You pulled on the thick wooden door, building is probably older than anyone in this bar tenfold. The chill of the still night air hitting you in full force as the exit slammed behind you.

There was less people outside, all concentrated in one pact to the left of you.

Except one.

Her.

Fucking Jo Yuri herself, your first partner and certainly the one you treated the worst. Draped chest to upper thigh in all black, holding a green lighter. Despite her constant flicking it did nothing, frustration visibly on her features. "Useless piece of shit."

You kept your distance, sitting on the edge of the pavement. Pulling out one of your final cigarettes from the damaged box, the sky looked particularly empty today. Just black, no stars.

The faint fire hit the butt of the cigarette, your lighter barely functional but the job was getting done. Taking your first hit of the night, letting the faint calm take hold.

And another hit, this time to the sound of someone hacking their lungs up to your left.

You took occasional glances to the girl to your right, she was desperately trying to get that lighter to work but to no avail. She looked so much better than you remember, older, colder.

You probably had something to do with that.

Another hit.

"Give me a hit of that lighter yea?" Yuri decided to come and approach you, taking you back slightly but that didn't show outwardly.

"Yeah sure here." She caught the lighter you chucked with grace, lighting the cigarette and dropping it on the ground next to you with a clink.

She fell to her feet, crouching next to you. "So dickwad, how's life been treating ya?" She was venomous.

"Shit, that what you wanna hear?"

"Absolutely."

"How's it going for you then?"

"Equally as miserable, think that much is evident when I've came to talk to you." She sighed, taking a drag from her now lit cigarette. The cold of night was starting to ramp up, the chill starting to burn your cheeks.

"Clearly, wouldn't have thought you'd ever come talk to me again."

"Wasn't ever planning on it, but it's been a shit fucking week." Neither of you two faced each other, looking head on towards the blue cars that were tinted dark by the lack of light.

"Can relate, so what's been happening in your land recently then?"

"Is that the first time you've ever asked me about how I've felt? Normally too busy fucking some random girl to ever talk to me." Her voice was daggers, piercing your skin. Hurting you in a way you would never have thought about, you did the actions after all.

"Eh, you were the best."

She was visibly taken aback, taking a longer cigarette break than usual. "Not good enough to be faithful? Way to twist the fucking knife."

"Whatever, you didn't really answer the fucking question."

"Does it fucking matter? You don't care, you didn't care."

"Stop being so difficult about it! God fucking damn."

She had that look on her face that you read so well, the "I should leave but I don't want to." face, she had it a lot when you two were together. All the little red flags she just ignored for whatever reason.

If only you loved her half as much as she loved you.

"Fine, asshole. I thought I finally had something good, turns out he was just as unfaithful as you. Even more so somehow." She was shaking, shivering in this air. It was getting too cold.

"Wow, that's impressive. Anyways, you are freezing to fucking death out here, take my coat." You offered it to her.

She was tempted to scoff, such a readable person. But relented to the cold crushing down on her, "Yeah, sure what the fuck ever just hand it over." The cold swarmed in on you as the shielding fabric transported to Yuri. She looked ridiculous with it on, body being swallowed entirely by it.

"No problem."

"Fuck off."

You laughed.

Your cigarette was nearly faded, "How much you had to drink today then?"

"Just enough to numb the thoughts, sober enough to think."

"Fair enough, anything else you wanna vent about?" You pulled out your phone, dry as all fuck save for a few random notifications.

"I could rant for eons about how much of a dick you were to me, letting me pour my heart out then cutting it out." She took one long, final drag. "But I'm not going to. It's not worth the effort, wanna walk me home?"

Well that took a turn.

"Oh? Inviting me over after all that?"

"Don't get me wrong, I fucking hate you. But this week has been nothing but awful. It can't get worse, so how about you just do one thing right and don't deny me of what I want." She got up, you followed.

"Well then, sure."

-

Yuri bent into the doorway to her bedroom, coat falling off onto the floor. The two of you smacking lips together, her mouth full of the taste of cigarettes and alcohol.

You sucked on her tongue greedily, pushing your knee between her legs. And she let you, widening the gap. You two were a fumble, pulling each other as deep into each other's mouths as possible.

Eventually you broke away for oxygen, panting against each other's lips. Stealing each other's air, "Such an asshole but such a good kisser." Yuri gasped.

"Fuck you are so eager, jesus." You dove right back in, now it was a battle of dominance. Two tongues swirling around each other, Yuri's fingers clawing into your scalp.

Your cock started to harden in your pants, unashamedly so. Not when she was this fucking fine, even if she hated your guts you were apathetic to such a thing.

Yuri was a mess the second time the kiss was broken apart, saliva dripping down onto the corners of her lips, lips starting to swell from your barrage. She looked even better.

You grasped her chin, locking eyes with her. "So hot." She swatted your hand away. Shoving you into her bedroom haphazardly, now full of a completely different character to the last time you saw it. She dropped down onto her knees right in front of you.

"You better not moan out another fucking girl's name." That moment was engraved into your brain, how it kept you up for months afterwards.

2 years ago, she was 21. It was the third time you engaged in anything sexual, Yuri was almost completely naked with the exception of one white sock. Her hair was in your grasp while you were down her throat. She was sucking like an amateur but there was a heart behind it.

One you broke.

"Hm- fuck Yena." You groaned, watching her eyes widen in horror.

But there was no reason to focus on the past, when the present was so much better. "I won't." That was enough for her, fingers grabbing into your pockets as she lowered your trousers down.

Your clothed cock stood tall in front of Yuri's eye, pressing her nose against the fabric. "They always give the biggest cocks to the biggest dicks."

That was the final one of her stone-cold jokes, lowering your boxers with a glare. You launched them, somewhere into Yuri's home. She could find them later, she looked at home on her knees like this. She spat on her hand, letting semi-transparent spit form in her palm.

Her fingers were soft, making first contact with the middle of your shaft, struggling to hold the entire thing in her grasp. Rubbing in her saliva all over. "Damn Yuri, fuck." You gave small half thrusts into her wrapped hand.

"You like that? I've improved so much since we broke up." Her tongue reached out, giving kitten licks to your tip.

"So much fucking– better."

"Imagine," She paused to run her sinful tongue from your balls to the tip. "had you not been a cheating asshole, I could have practiced it all on this." She flicked her tongue against you, licking hungrily.

"I still got you either way, hate me all you want. You don't hate being on your knees for me."

"I just like being on my knees, don't get a fucking ego. Talking so fucking much."

She finally had enough, taking your swollen tip in between her pillowy lips. "Take it then, if you enjoy being on your knees so fucking much."

She glared, controlling the pace. Letting the moments pass with every slow suck on your tip, her cheeks looked so pretty hollow. "That's great, should go lower."

Yuri released you with a quiet pop. "Shut the fuck up already. I'll go at the rate I want to, not you."

Despite her words she did exactly what you wanted, lowering down on your cock to her maximum. Breaching into the warmth an inch at a time, Yuri could only take half of it. She did clearly enjoy herself.

"Damn that's it." She bobbed up and down, straight up sloppily. That was the main thing that had changed between now and then. She didn't care about being reserved anymore, throwing all dignity away the second she invited you over.

"Throat fuck me like you loathe me, hold nothing back." She demanded, offering you the reigns to her body.

You took it immediately, curling her black hair in your fingers. Tugging her down as you filled her mouth, taking it all. Cramming your cock down her throat, she took it like an absolute champion. Gagging all over your cock, retching up saliva all over your balls, lathering them up in the sticky spit.

But she held it there.

"Taking it so fucking well, god you are such a whore." You groaned, the insult coming out naturally.

Yuri gave an appreciative gurgle, you pulled her up and down forcefully, slamming her head against your cock then lifting her up.

You kept the pace. Up, down, up, down. Enjoying her submitted throat. Pure, unadulterated heaven. "Fuck–!"

She had more of an effect than you remembered, orgasm building in your core. It only took a few more second before you spilled inside of her warm mouth.

Her eyes widened with surprise, getting off the floor. Grabbing a thick bunch of tissue, spitting out your thick load as it dribbled out of her lips. Leaving it on her table to be disposed of later.

"Ever hear of a warning asshole? God you are such a prick." She kissed you, biting your lips as she forced you to taste the salty remnants of your impulsive orgasm.

"Damn you are so hot angry, not my fault your mouth feels so perfect."

"Urgh! I hate how fucking smug you are, undress me. Save the snark." She lifted her arms up, letting you pull the shirt off with minimal effort, joining her other shirts that laid strewn on the floor. Next came her skirt, no wonder she was cold earlier.

Now she was nearly naked, but nearly doesn't cut it in most things and certainly not here. Your fingers gravitating to the wet spot forming on the fabric between her legs, rubbing it teasingly. "So wet for me, do I turn you on that much? I thought you hated me."

"I– said leave the snark, fuck..." Her thighs were already fidgeting, she was so pent up.

"Oops, guess I forgot." You whispered sarcastically, tugging off the soiled fabric onto the floor. Revealing her pretty pink pussy, freshly shaven like she was vying for this to happen.

In your time dating Yuri you remembered her favourite position being missionary. Because she liked 'how romantic it was', it was unlikely that she shared that same sentiment after everything. But it was all you had to go off.

"Lay back for me, spread your legs." She did so, falling back into her plush mattress, fingers working behind her back to take off the bra you didn't care to remove.

You rubbed your leaking tip all over Yuri, beginning to slowly press inside of her warmth. Her pussy invited you in wantonly, squeezing tightly the life out of every inch that made its way inside.

You grunted. She was every bit as warm, tight and wet as you remembered. Why did you even cheat on her? Probably not the time to mull. Yuri's gaze was affixed to the ceiling as you began to properly move in and out.

"Shit– you are so tight..." You groaned.

"And you are fucking big! Oh god."

"The biggest you've ever had?" You were smug, goading.

You could see how Yuri's brain formulating a response that didn't stroke your ego.

"No... not even close!" She wasn't very convincing.

You stopped moving.

"Really now?" You teased.

"Why'd you stop asshole?! I'm telling the truth."

She scowled at you, hand sneaking down to her clit, chasing the pleasure that you were denying her.

You weren't having any of that. You grabbed both of her wrists, holding them firmly in your hand. She whined, visibly cracking.

"Go on."

"Fine! You are the biggest! Fucking happy now? Such a fucking pric-" That was enough of that, resuming your thrusts now much more forceful. Slamming into her cunt with vigor, that shut Yuri's shit-talking right up.

The sounds of delicious skin slapping rang out, mixed in with the needy whines of Yuri. "You like that? You like being fucked this hard? Such a fucking slut."

"Yeah! Fuck! I'm your slut tonight, keep going!" She screamed, destined to give the neighbours an audible treat.

Her tits swayed under the intense pressure, hands still caught firmly within your grasp. She was so wet, gushing her slick juices all over your shaft.

"Hate me so much but you are fucking soaked." You watched your cock piston in and out of her pussy, she looked fucking divine. The sweat starting to shine on her features.

"Cause–fuck– your cock is so good! Oh god, keep going!" She begged, screwing her eyes shut. The way she swallowed your cock was so filthy, so hot, you kept pumping rapidly. The muscles in your legs starting to burn from the pressure. But you ignored all of it, there was only one way this night was going to end.

The minutes passed, Yuri's skin flushing a bright red as her orgasm came closer. Her walls clamping down on you so tightly. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum!" Her brain short circuited, every muscle tightening up stiff, head falling to the side.

You continued fucking her through her orgasm, chasing that same high. Your thrusts were growing irregular, breath shaky, seconds from coming undone. "Fuck– where?"

"On my stomach." She gasped out into the mattress, you couldn't endure it anymore. Pulling out with just enough time to shoot all over her chest, moaning heavily as thick spurts of cum painted the canvas she offered.

The two of you just took a moment, her laying on the bed while you sat on the ground breathing heavily.

-

Maybe it was overkill, greedy even to claim a third orgasm tonight, but when Yuri bent herself against her tiled shower things just naturally escalate right? Can't be helped.

You took handfuls of her nice tits, fingers rubbing her hardening nipples. The warm water rushing down her body, it wasn't wasteful when she looked so much hotter like that. Thank god she had a mat, otherwise you'd both be falling over.

"Mhm, shove that cock back in me." She demanded, resting her hands on the wall.

"If that's what you want." You pushed back inside, slamming your cock in and out of her from behind. Yuri was even fucking tighter like this, clenching all around you, practically suffocating your cock.

“You fill me so well, god I fucking hate you so much—need your cock!"

The shower curtain was open, giving the two of you a treat. Her mirror had begun to fog up but what was still transparent was reflecting the two of you. Yuri getting pounded against that wall, mouth agape, thighs spread open, wet hair clinging onto her face.

"Look at how fucking well you take my cock, going in and fucking out." You teased.

She looked over, reveling in the same view you were. "I look– so good taking your cock! Fuck..." She was whiny, vocals straining.

"You do, such a fucking slut, about to cum all over your exes cock right?"

"Yes! I'm gonna cum, fuck just keep going!"

You obliged, sliding in and out of her, not that she wanted to let you go with how she gripped onto your shaft. Continuing your assault on her warm hole, shit you were close as well.

"Gonna cum soon as well, shit..."

"Ah, fuck just cum inside! You are throbbing in me."

You gave her the last few thrusts that you could muster, burying yourself as deep as you could before shooting your load right inside her greedy cunt.

Yuri broke in your grasp, cumming soon after. The water nearly got in your eyes, a cautionary tale for later.

You pulled out, watching the cum flow out of her body, hitting the tub.

"Wash me, do something right..." She gasped, it was the least you could do.

You two got out, she held on your arm, legs too shaky to stand. "Its too late for you to leave, so I'll let you stay the night." You weren't going to refuse such an offer.

"Thanks, Yuri."

"Shut up, I just don't want a murder on my conscious."

-

It was certainly overkill now.

But again, not your fault, if Yuri was offering you breakfast in bed as a parting gift there wasn't a way you could say no.

It wouldn't be very hospitable would it?

She was in control, holding your head deep against her cunt, making you inhale her morning scent. Your tongue swiped up and down against Yuri's folds, savouring her sweet taste that flowed into your mouth.

Her vocal moans got suppressed by her supple thighs pressing against your ears. But they were no less delectable, little "fucks" and gasps in between the louder shrieks when you hit just the right spot. "Mm, keep going, make the last time count!"

You sped up, licking her slit like you were starved. Her hips pushed forward, chasing your tongue that ran flatly. There was no time for you to speak, too enamored in her taste. Her body shook in ecstasy, tugging your hair painfully, like she was getting revenge for what was inflicted on her.

"Oh god, eat my fucking pussy! You are so good!" She sounded cute, moaning her brain out. Her finger returned to her clit, rubbing it frantically. You let her have fun this time, to busy with slurping on her delicious cunt.

"Fuck, fuck! I'm, you are so fucking good! I'm going to cum soon!" Yuri was reaching her orgasm far faster than even you anticipated, tempted to prolong it. But her taste was intoxicating, preventing you from pulling away, her moans were climbing and climbing. A pure euphony filling the room.

Her cum painted your face, exploding all over your cheeks. Her honey clinging to you, she caught her breath once more.

-

You thought that was going to be the final one, she was going to kick you out then.

But no, not immediately. The two of you were fucking like wild animals on that bed, taking her in every position that the two of you could conceive. Missionary, from behind, on the floor, her riding you. It was extremely overkill, almost to the point where you had to throw in the towel.

But you didn't, you took this last opportunity to ever talk to Yuri. This was the first time you felt proper guilt, not what you thought you felt. When all was said and done, her entire bed coated in sweat and juices and she was coated, filled with cum. She met you at the door.

Naked still, but blocked by you now fully dressed. "I still hate you by the way, but that was nice." She said coldly, slamming the door in your face.

That felt bittersweet.

And way too soon of an end.

But its your fault, so you just left to walk home under the setting sun.

[yenqa]

firsts

synopsis — sakusa and you have never had a conversation, and honestly you’re terrified of the man. but one conversation turns out to be many more of your firsts with sakusa.

warnings — reader is scared of men LMFAO, not really any

pairing — sakusa x implied fem!reader

wordcount — 710

a/n — happy birthday to himm! also my first hq post in a while OOPS also not proofread sorry!

You’ve never really talked to Sakusa.

You had been the manager of the volleyball team since your first year–and you had known him since then, but for some reason, you haven’t talked to him unless it’s volleyball related.

In fact–you don’t think you’ve ever had a conversation with him. But there's a first for everything, right?

Itachiyama has made it to nationals (not like it’s a surprise), and everyone has just arrived. The room continues to fill with people you don’t know, so you decide it’s best to stick with your team so you don’t get lost.

Well apparently that was a horrible idea to everyone else. Because you’ve lost everyone but Sakusa. 

And you’re terrified. Surrounded in a room full of men you don’t know sounded like your worst nightmare, and you were living it currently.

Frantically scanning the room for anyone that’s not Sakusa, you somehow can’t spot any of the familiar bright yellow and green jackets your team is wearing.

Everyone knows that Sakusa doesn’t like to be bothered. But when you make eye contact with him, you change your expression to a way where he understands you’re pleading for help.

And he nods once.

Your mouth breaks out into a smile, and you shimmy your way to the crowd. Letting out a sigh of relief–you lean on the wall for support, muttering a small thank you to Sakusa. 

You don’t expect him to say anything back, but you can hear his muffled voice say, “You okay?”

Tilting your head slightly up to make eye contact with him, you smile as you say, “Yeah–I’m fine. Are you nervous?”

You’re not sure why you ask the question, he probably doesn’t want to be bothered. I mean–you were still kind of shocked that he let you even be near him.

“Not really. Are you?”

You’re even more shocked when he continues the conversation. You’d expect he’d be the most rude person if he didn’t want to talk. “I-uhm I am a little bit. But we’re exempt from playing today right?”

Yeah–this definitely is the first and last conversation you’ll ever have with him.

He nods.

Then it’s silent.

Surprisingly, the silence isn't the most awkward thing you’ve experienced. It feels as if you’re just two people co-existing.

You watch as everyone excitedly hugs each other or glares at their next opponent. One person even tries to rile up the other, eliciting a small chuckle from you.

From the corner of your eye you can tell he’s curious, but he hasn’t said anything yet. This time, you take initiative to point at the players, also describing the jacket colors.

And you swear you can hear him laugh.

Not a full–hearty laugh obviously, but a small chuckle. A quiet one that you don’t even notice. But it’s definitely the first time you’ve heard him do anything resembling a laugh.

“You laughed.” You blurt out, before you even realize. 

He furrows his brows, “I did.”

Your eyes widen, “Sorry–oh my gosh, it’s just the first time I’ve heard your laugh before, Sakusa-san. I swear I didn’t mean it like that–you just have a nice laugh–”

And now he’s actually laughing–like not even hard to hear.

He’s laughing, he’s hunched over, shaking and clutching his stomach. You don’t think you’ve ever felt more mortified in your life.

“It wasn’t that funny was it?” You ask, a frown on your face.

Sakusa catches his breath, “Funnier than any of the jokes Komori tries to make.”

“There wasn’t even a joke! And I happen to like the jokes he makes!”

“Only if you’re sick in the head.”

You scoff at his remark, “Wow, Sakusa-san, you’re very hard to please.”

“Kiyoomi.”

“Another complaint?” You tease, trying to play dumb at what he’s trying to imply. 

“Call me Kiyoomi.”

You can feel heat rush to your cheeks, you tuck your hair back behind your ear and mutter, “Okay, Kiyoomi.”

And even though he’s wearing a white mask, you swear you can see his eyes crinkle and you can assume the corners of his mouth turn up ever so slightly. 

You’ve had many firsts with Sakusa today. This is the first time you’ve seen him smile–just maybe next time he’ll do it while his face is fully shown.

yenqa © please do not copy, steal or translate.

[cheshireliam]

"Surprise Bag 2025" Story Sale: The Villain Became A Plushie!?

Nica Schwartz

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection; expect mistakes, grammatical errors, and some creative liberties. All original content and media used belongs to Cybird. Please support the game by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

Read this before interacting

Nica: This is the worst. Seriously the worst thing to ever happen, I really can’t deal with this. 

His once pure white clothes were dirty, even his cheeks and hair were stained. 

Now in the form of a plushie, Nica was cursing up a storm. 

Nica: I HATE being dirty. Specifically this grimy, dingy, type of dirty. It’s the ONE thing I hate the most. 

(He’s very upset…) 

I could understand why he would feel irritated, but none of it really sank in because of how ridiculously adorable he looked. 

Nica: Spatzi, are you listening? 

Kate: I’m listening. You're so cute. 

Nica: Then repeat everything I just said.

Kate: You’re upset, and yet the way you said all that while looking this cute just softens everything up… like, your words didn’t sound harsh at all. 

Kate: You’re soooooo cute, Nica. 

Nica: This is hopeless. You're not listening at all. 

Even the way he held his head in his hands was unbearably adorable. I watched him while smiling fondly, but—

(I can’t leave him in this state, though.)

Nica was undeniably uncomfortable, but it could harm his body if he remained dirty when he turned back into a human. 

(Alright then!)

Kate: Nica, we’re getting you washed up.

Nica: You’re going to wash me?

Kate: Yes, leave it to me. 

I rolled up my sleeves, turned on the shower, and started filling up the bathtub with a little bit of warm water 

Kate: I’m putting you in now.

I picked him up and gently lowered him into the bathtub while holding the shower in my other hand. 

And then, water splashed right onto his face—

Nica: Ptff! H-hey! Be gentle, will you!? 

Kate: I-I’m sorry!

I hurriedly turned the shower off and scooped up some warm water from the bathtub with my hands.

(Let’s start with his hair and cheeks.) 

Doing my best to be gentle and careful, I began scrubbing the dirt off, working it out like a massage. 

Nica: … 

Being unusually quiet for a talkative guy like him, Nica simply sat there and let me do my thing. 

Feeling a little awkward with the silence, I decided to pretend to be a beautician for fun. 

Kate: Do you have any itchy spots, Sir? 

Nica let out a small chuckle and leaned back against the bathtub.

Nica: I’m a little itchy behind my ears.

Kate: Over here, Sir? 

Nica: Mm, right there. How long have you been in this line of work, Miss? 

Kate: Actually, I just started today. You’re my very first customer. 

Nica: You’re not bad for a first-timer.

Kate: Fufu, thank you very much. 

Our giggling echoed in the enclosed bathroom.

The time meant for cleaning him up turned out to be surprisingly enjoyable.

Nica: You’re being a little rough again. Be more gentle with your customer. 

Kate: Like this, Sir?

Nica: Mm-hmm, just like that. 

Even while I was scrubbing the dirt from his cheeks, Nica obediently remained seated in the bathtub. 

(His hair and cheeks should be clean now. Next…)

I looked at his dingy white clothes, thinking.

(I should probably take those off before washing them separately.)

Just as I reached for his clothes, a soft little plush hand stopped me.

Kate: Nica?

Nica: … Are you about to undress me?

Kate: Yes, I thought it'd be easier to properly wash everything if I remove all your clothes first. 

Nica: You're actually being serious? 

Kate: I can’t get the grime off otherwise.

Kate: Didn't you say you hate being dirty? 

Nica: I mean, yeah, but…

He seemed unconvinced, and I tilted my head at his reaction.

He let out a deep sigh. 

Nica: Look, I’m a man. 

Nica: You might've forgotten that fact because I’m a plushie right now, but undressing me is one very bold move. 

Kate: Oh… 

Nica was so cute in his plushie form, I’d honestly forgotten about that.

Now that he’s mentioned it, thinking it through, he was indeed a grown man. 

Nica: I mean, if you want to see me naked, be my guest. 

Kate: Uhh… s-sorry. 

I pulled my hands away from the buttons of his shirt, and at that moment—

Nica: Whoa

Kate: Wha— 

There was a puff of smoke, and the next thing I knew, Nica appeared right before my eyes in his original human form. 

But the problem was with that exact situation we were in.

(This looks like I’m assaulting Nica…!) 

There he was, sitting in the bathtub, soaking wet and his shirt clinging to his skin… and there was me, leaning in with my hands on his chest.

If anyone were to walk into the bathroom at that point, there’d be absolutely no explaining my way out of this. 

Panicking, I tried to quickly take my hands off his shirt. 

However, he grabbed my hand and wouldn't let go—

Kate: Hey, Nica—

Nica: You’re chickening out now, the instant I turn back? 

Kate: But— 

Nica: Come on. If you want to see, I’ll let you strip me, you know? 

As Nica closed the distance between us with a mischievous grin, I instinctively snatched my hand back to escape.

Kate: Ah! 

My hand slipped and smacked onto the tap, and water burst from the shower, pouring straight down onto me. 

Nica: Aaand now you’re soaked too, Spatzi. 

Kate: Eek! 

Nica grabbed my hand and tugged me forward again, causing me to lean into him with my chest pressed up against his torso. 

Our bodies stuck together, soaked clothes clinging to our skin. 

We were even closer than before, and my heart was practically exploding in my chest— 

Nica: I was thinking of how I should thank you while you were washing me… and now I’ve decided. 

With his wet hair sticking to his skin, and drops of water sliding down his neck, his eyes locked onto mine. 

Nica: I’m going to wash you in return, Kate. 

I froze, my breath caught in my throat, as his hand reached for the ribbons of my blouse. 

He whispered into my ear in a sultry voice,

Nica: Shall we wash each other? … Kate? 

The ribbons of my blouse came undone. 

While I was mentally screaming for someone or something to give me back the adorable plushie version of Nica, he only laughed. 

He was clearly thoroughly enjoying himself. 

[antithetical-bolter]

Out Of The Woods

Chapter 1

Shoutout to @antisocialfiore for helping me with the title!! This is my first fic I’ve posted to tumblr so any tips on how to keep chapters organized and whatnot would be lovely. Hang in there while I figure it out lmao. Chapter 2 is written and will be posted shortly <3

5.0k words | Seasoned ER nurse Iris McDowell finds herself pregnant after a one night stand with Robby, who is predictably handling things very poorly.

Warnings: unplanned pregnancy, discussion of abortions, excessive use of the word fuck, commas, and em dashes.

Tag list: @antisocialfiore @snowflames-world @eviemonroeer

Page dividers by: @cafekitsune

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Masterlist

Iris

Well, shit.

That is most definitely two pink lines.

On three different tests. Iris Elizabeth McDowell, you fucking idiot.

Just my fucking luck, that getting tipsy and fucking the very hot and very emotionally unavailable attending would result in a god damn pregnancy. I’d been blissfully ignorant the last 3 weeks - my periods have never been all that regular but as soon as the nausea and the sore boobs hit I knew it was time to face the music. And sure enough, the music was telling me that I was pregnant. With Michael Robinavitch’s baby.

Robby, who has barely made eye contact with me past what was required for patient care since it happened. Robby, who let it slip at the bar that he had been interested in me for months now. Robby, who I was unfortunately in love with. Had been for an embarrassingly long time now - so him up and leaving the morning after the best sex of my life triggered a full blown crisis. Almost a decade of pining, all for one (admittedly spectacular) night. The whole debacle had me briefly considering finding a new ER to work at, but I decided I wouldn’t let a man dictate my life. Even if it was that man.

Do I want to keep it? I think so? Should I want to keep it? Probably not.

It’s not like I’m some young new grad nurse who doesn’t have a career. I’ve been an ER nurse for more than ten years now, working at the Pitt for all but the first two. I’m damn good at my job, so much so that I occasionally fill in for the charge nurses, and I have a great support system. But the thought of having to tell Robby that I’m carrying his child? Genuinely makes me want to puke. Again.

I have money, a 2 bedroom condo, a regular enough schedule that daycare wouldn’t be an issue. But do I really want to be a single mom? Put my body through the fucking wild ride that is pregnancy? Oh god. Pregnancy scrubs? The absolute worst. Not to mention actually giving birth.

Thankfully, the universe has seen fit to give me a single win in all this, and I have the next 4 days off to figure out how to be normal at work again. First order of business - call my OB. A brief phone call later, I have an appointment for 9:45. Just over two hours from now.

Fuck, I could really use my mom right now. Not like we were ever super close, with her living on the west coast and me getting the fuck out of my tiny ass hometown right after high school, but I’d like the option to call her and freak out. Both her and my dad were killed in a car accident just over three years ago, and somehow this scenario had never crossed my mind. I have an older brother who lives back home in Washington, but we have very different works views and I highly doubt he would be a good source of familial support. Cue the tears - but they feel cathartic. A release I desperately need right now.

My therapist is going to lose her ever-loving mind. A quick look on her patient portal reveals that she has an opening this afternoon, so I guess that makes 2 wins from the universe for me today. I’ll take what I can get.

I am very picky about my medical providers. Working in the field myself means I have seen some shit doctors, and I just flat out refuse to put my care in the hands of someone I don’t trust. My OB is the best of the best, and she’s really earning her copay right now.

The transvaginal ultrasound was quick, confirming that I definitely have something cooking in there. The tech asked if I wanted to hear the heartbeat - but I said no. I’m right at the six week mark so a heartbeat can be heard at this point but I am not ready for that just yet. Not until I decide what I want to do. My OB, bless her, ran me through all of my options. She knows I know them, I’m an ER nurse after all, but it’s like all my schooling and experience fell out of my brain the second the stick(s) turned pink.

She encouraged me to take my time making a decision, since I have a few weeks to make a choice either way. We went through what it would look like to keep, terminate, and adopt. Having all the information laid out in front of me makes me feel both better and far, far worse.

She also tells me that no matter what the father wants, this is my choice. That I should lean on my people, and find someone I trust to tell. That if I do decide to terminate, I need to have someone with me after I take the medications to make sure everything progresses as it should.

I leave the appointment armed with 4 different pamphlets and 3 sonogram images that I have yet to look at.

Therapy is significantly harder. Erica, bless her, has been my therapist since I moved to Pittsburgh for college when I was 18. She knows me far too well - immediately clocks that it must be hard to be dealing with all of this without my mom’s support, which triggers a crying spell. Once I’ve recovered from that we move on to how I’m going to tell Robby.

“I don’t know, Erica. He’s barely looked at me since we slept together, I can count the non-patient related words he’s said to me since then on one hand and none of them were particularly nice.” That man needs therapy more than anyone I’ve ever met. He’s an incredible doctor and great to his friends, but ever since he fucked up his relationship with Collins so badly that she left the state he’s been especially moody.

“How do you think he’s going to react to this?”

“Not particularly well. He’ll freak out, not speak to me for a few days, and then inevitably come back around and say that he’ll help me with whatever I choose. I know that if I decide to keep it that he would help, but that it would be out of obligation and that is not what I want. I would never keep him away from his kid but I can almost guarantee that I would be eternally fucked up over it.” Erica nods thoughtfully, taking a pause to formulate a reply that won’t send me over the edge.

“Maybe you should start by telling someone else, then. Maybe Samira, or Dana? Someone who will support you unconditionally without any emotional baggage taking up space in the back seat. They could help you decide what to say when you tell him, and support you if it goes as poorly as you think it will.” She gives me a very pointed look before continuing. “Also, and really think about this before brushing it off, maybe this conversation between you and Robby will help you both. A push that requires communication where there is a gap right now.”

“I - I, ugh. I just really, really don’t want to have to do this with him. He really hurt me when he just up and fucking ghosted me. Especially because he spent the whole night prior telling me that he’s been wanting to kiss me for months, and a whole bunch of other shit that he clearly didn’t mean.” He doesn’t seem like the type to spout bullshit to get a woman into bed with him, but I really cannot come up with another reason for him to be acting this way.

“It’s fair and reasonable for you to be scared. And if he screws this up, you have my blessing to tell him to fuck off. But no matter what you choose, you will be okay. It might suck for a while, but you will come out the other side.” The unspoken words are loud - that I will be okay but that it’s going to take a while for me to get there.

“I know you’re right but it’s hard to see right now.” Pretty much impossible, actually.

“That’s okay, I’m here to remind you. Your homework this week is to tell someone you trust.” Sad that I don’t consider the father someone I trust, but he definitely is not making that list right now.

“I’m going to call Dana literally as soon as we hang up - Samira’s working right now.” She nods in response, flashes me what I’m sure is supposed to be a reassuring smile but it just doesn’t land. We schedule an appointment for next week and then we hang up. I give myself 10 minutes to spiral before I pick up the phone and call Dana.

Dana picks up her phone on the third ring.

“Hey, kid! Where are ya?” I can hear the sounds of what is likely a bar or restaurant in the background and belatedly realize that there’s ER social plans today - most of day shift is gathered at the sports bar near the hospital to watch the first Penguins game of the regular season. Hockey is one of the few sports I will watch voluntarily, and I definitely told Dana I would try and make it out tonight.

“Shit, Dana. I totally spaced, had a bit of a personal crisis. Can I call you later? When you aren’t surrounded by our coworkers?” I hear a booming laugh in the background and immediately place it as Robby’s. Because of course he’s there. “Can you just, uh - text me when you leave the bar?”

“Hold up, Iris, wait. Are you okay?” Her voice changes, drops lower and sounds muffled. Like she’s covering her mouth while she speaks in an effort to afford me some privacy. She knows something happened between Robby and I, and has had a front row seat to whatever the fuck is going on right now so she’s sensitive to the fact that I might not want him knowing about said personal crisis. Little does she fucking know that he’s going to be quite privy to the details when I’m no longe actively in a state of crisis.

“I mean, okay is not really the word I would use but I’m safe and not currently in any physical danger.” Very much not okay, but I don’t want to make her change her plans for me. It’s so rare that we’re all able to see each other outside the Pitt and I know she values this time with her friends.

“Iris, honey. What’s wrong?” I don’t answer, but I do start to cry. My best efforts at keeping my sobs quiet are unsuccessful. “Oh fuck, you know what, never mind, I’m just gonna come over. Hang tight, okay?” I hear the screech of a chair as she presumably scoots back and stands up. Her voice is quieter as she speaks next, having moved the phone so she can talk to whoever else is at the table. “Change of plans, guys. I have to go. Enjoy the game and I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

The crying has not slowed in the thirty seconds it takes her to get outside.

“Dana, really, I appreciate it but you can stay and finish the game. I can wait.” I must not convince her, because she laughs at me. Fairly so, given that my words are very much broken up by sobs.

“Absolutely not. I’m on my way, I’ll see you in ten minutes.”

She arrives in eight.

I’m waiting by the door, and open it before she has a chance to knock. I’m still crying - no longer sobbing, but a pretty steady stream of tears track their way down my cheeks. I see the question forming on her lips but I beat her to it and hold out my three positive tests for her to see.

“Are we happy? Shopping? Making an appointment at the clinic?” Classic Dana - no big reaction, just thoughtful statements of action. Unfortunately I don’t know what I want.

“I don’t know yet. Took the tests early this morning and was able to get in last minute to see OB to confirm it. I’m just about 6 weeks along and I have no fucking clue what I want to do.” She closes the door behind her and immediately pulls me into a tight hug. Rubs my back with one hand and runs the other through my hair, tells me that it’s okay to not know what I want and that she’s here for me no matter what. Does not ask me who the father is. Unfortunately that is the biggest piece to this puzzle and I know I need to tell her.

We move to my couch and she makes me drink some water before continuing to fill her in. I decide it’s best to just fucking do it - no preamble and no backstory.

“Robby’s the father.” That stops her in her tracks for a second. Her eyes go wide and I can tell she’s working extremely hard to keep her own emotions under wraps.

“Well, shit. So that ‘thing’ that happened between you guys in September was sex?” I nod. “And, let me hazard a guess here, he freaked the fuck out and now he’s unable to act normal around you.” I nod again.

“That about sums it up. He left before I woke up and any effort I made to talk to him about it ended with him getting snippy and walking away from me. My texts went unanswered so I just stopped trying.”

“What an asshole - I’m so sorry, Iris.” She leans over to pull me into another hug. “Are you going to tell him?”

“I mean I kinda have to, don’t I? Would be a real dick move of me to not tell him about this. Even if he doesn’t deserve me speaking to him ever again.”

“I think that depends on what you decide you want to do. If you want to keep it, then yeah you’re gonna have to tell him. But if you don’t, then we go to the clinic this week and he remains none the wiser. Either choice is okay, whatever you decide to do will be the right decision for you.” I take a deep breath, enjoying having her here to support me.

“See that’s the thing, my first instinct is that I want to keep it. I’ve always thought that I could go either way on having kids, but now that it’s staring me in the face I can’t imagine not going through with it.” Saying it out loud all but confirms my decision - this is happening. I’m going to have a baby. And I’m going to have to tell Robby.

“Then that’s what will happen. I’ve got your back through all of it, and if you want me to hide upstairs while you tell Robby I can do that. I’ll even chase him out if he acts a fool.” She’s serious, and I love her for that.

“Might not be a terrible idea. The last thing I want is for him to be involved purely out of obligation.” I debate stopping there, not divulging the depths of my (extremely unadvised) feelings for him, but I’ve already gone this far so what’s the harm in spilling the whole story. “I’m like, stupidly in love with that man. Have been for a long time, and I was happy to have it kinda live in the background of my life up until recently. He approached me at that party we had for Jesse and we hit it off, and he was really sweet. Told me that he’s been wanting to kiss me for months and that he hasn’t been able to get me out of his head. We each had a few drinks, but I wasn’t drunk. A little tipsy for sure, but sober enough to consent and be smart about it. We even used a fucking condom! Then he was gone when I woke up and you’ve seen how he’s been since then.” She grimaces a little before responding.

“Yeah, he’s been in rare Robby form. Very broody. But, Iris, I really think he meant what he told you. Handled it terribly for sure, but he’s so thoroughly fucked up in the past that his ex literally left the state. He’s probably just trying to protect you in his own, very fucked up way.” I laugh and try to wipe away the tears staining my face, but they just keep coming.

“Well he’s doing a terrible job. Is it crazy of me to make him go to therapy before I let him really be involved? Is that, like, blackmailing?” The last thing I want out of all this is for my kid to be hurt in the same way - their dad hot and cold, unable to really make a commitment to be present in their life.

“Maybe a bit, but I fully support you in that. I actually think that’s plenty reasonable, and if he gives you pushback then he’ll hear about it from me.” So quick to jump in and support me, even when the problem is one of her best and longest friends. “If it makes you feel any better, the second I said your name at the bar earlier he looked like he was two seconds away from taking my phone and checking on you himself.” A mirthful laugh escapes me at that - it does not make me feel better.

“Then blackmail it is. Now, how the fuck am I supposed to have this conversation with him when I can’t even get him to say three consecutive words to me that aren’t directly work related?”

We spend the next hour brainstorming, and by the time she leaves I feel better. I have a loose plan, my tear ducts have long since run dry, and I no longer feel like I’m about to majorly fuck my whole life up.

I make myself a list before I go to sleep - things I need to buy for first trimester health, food I should avoid, and symptoms I’ve been experiencing so I can be as informed as possible.

My list exhausts me (that, and the tiny human I’m currently forming) and I fall into a blissful, dreamless sleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.

I spend the next few days making more lists. Baby names, furniture, birth plans. If there’s a relevant list to be made - it’s currently up on my fridge.

My first day back at work since The Event (TM) is fine, I guess. Dana greets me with a hug and a quiet check in, and while this isn’t that out of the ordinary it is unusual that she pulls me off the floor to do it. I feel Robby’s eyes track us as we walk back in from the ambulance bay, especially when we get closer and Dana does not smell like she’s just come back from a smoke break.

I treat Robby to his own taste of the silent treatment. No niceties, no attempts at small talk. Strictly patient care and work related conversations, and honestly conversations is a generous word. Terse exchanges is more accurate. Not even a polite smile in his direction. I don’t let it get in the way of my job, and if I do say so myself I really knock it out of the park nursing wise. Even escaping to the bathroom a few times per shift to puke doesn’t get in the way of my determination to keep up my ‘everything is fine’ facade.

Three shifts pass in this manner, three shifts where I can feel him fucking watching me like he knows something is up. Thirty-six hours of me sitting on the biggest fucking secret I’ve ever kept when all I really want to do is yell “Hey, fuckface! You ghosted me and it sucked, and I’m fucking angry about. By the way, I’m pregnant with your child. Get some god damn therapy if you’d like to be involved!” And then walk out, middle fingers up, leaving him to stand with the aftermath of his actions.

But, unfortunately, I am a professional adult so I don’t do that. I do heavily fantasize about it though.

Samira notices that something is up right away, but she is also on a long stretch of shifts so we agree to hang out when our work weeks are both done. We meet for breakfast (at 8pm) at the closest Denny’s and she spits out her coffee when I tell her that not only did I sleep with Robby, but that there’s going to be literal life long consequences for it come early June.

“Oh my god. I would ask if you’re okay, but I think I can answer that myself. When are you going to tell him?” I shrug as I finish my bite of French toast.

“Great question. He’s been fucking frosty with me lately and it doesn’t have me feeling very generous towards him. I know he deserves to know but god the thought of that conversation makes me want to punch a wall.” Another bite of toast. “I know that a few weeks after we slept together was the anniversary of Pitt Fest and Adamson’s death, but the way he’s been treating me does not make me want to tell him. It makes me want to be spiteful and keep it from him until the last possible second, so he can be as blindsided as I feel right now. Very immature of me and I won’t do that but it’s nice to entertain it for a bit.”

“He’s clearly fumbling the bag pretty hard right now, but you and I both know he’s going to do the right thing.”

“I know, and that’s almost worse. If he’s going to be all emotionally constipated while attempting to be present I am going to lose my shit. Dana said she thinks I am well within my rights to threaten him with therapy, so I think that’s my game plan.”

“That’s - that’s actually a great idea. If anything will get that man into therapy it’s the threat of potentially fucking up his child’s life.” She chuckles a bit. “Can I tell Jack? I will obviously swear him to secrecy but it might be nice to have him in your corner.”

“Please do - but if he tells Robby before I do I will kill him.”

“And I will help you hide the body. Also, he’s picking me up from this meal so if you’d like to fill him in yourself you’re about to have your window.” Like she summoned him, Jack Abbot walks in the door. He immediately finds Samira and she waves him over.

I decide that I do not have another long, emotional story in me and just spit it out.

“Hi, Jack.” He looks at me a little weird, we’re friendly at work but I don’t think I’ve ever called him by his first name before. “Welcome to the party, you’re about to hear some very classified information so prepare yourself.” He stares at me, a little stunned, but I just keep on talking. “I’m pregnant and keeping it. Robby’s the father, but I haven’t told him yet.” His jaw drops open, and he has to open and close it a few times before actual words come out.

“Uhhh, wow. Fuck. Are you, uhm, are you going to tell him?”

“I mean, yeah. Not sure when or how, but yeah. What’s your opinion on me using this as an opportunity to threaten him into therapy?” This gets a loud, genuine laugh from him.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea. You want my therapists number? I’ve given it to him multiple times but he’s clearly never used it.” Abbot doesn’t wait for me to answer, just pulls a card out of his wallet and hands it to me. “Are you doing okay? Managing symptoms alright?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks. Freaking the fuck out, but okay.” With that, I decide I’ve had enough social interaction for the day. “Now that all that’s out of the way, I’m going to head home. Samira, love you, thanks for the support, and Jack I’m a little sorry to drag you into all this but thankful that you’re here anyway.” I leave them at that, dropping enough cash to cover my meal and all but running to my car so I can have my next meltdown in peace.

I’m a little embarrassed to admit that I let another two full weeks pass before I even consider telling Robby. Erica, Dana, and Samira are all on my case a little bit but ultimately don’t push me too hard. My OB and therapist have both been informed that I’ve decided to continue the pregnancy, and the appropriate follow up appointments have been scheduled.

It takes an extra long session with Erica, complete with roll play and multiple outcomes of the conversation for me to feel even slightly ready to broach the subject with him. We decide that I’ll attempt to talk to him after our next shift together, a rare night where neither of us have to be in the next morning.

Dana knows, and as she leaves out the ambulance bay doors she shoots me a very encouraging thumbs up and a ‘call me!’ While I wait for him to leave. I don’t have to wait much longer. 10 minutes pass before I see him walk out, backpack slung over his shoulders and thick winter jacket thrown on like it’s armor. He doesn’t turn his head to look at me as he passes.

I parked at the very end of the lot today, hoping to use my car as an excuse to follow him for a bit. As we approach my green Honda CRV, I know it’s time to bite the bullet.

“Hey, uh, Robby? Can we talk for a sec?” He pauses, takes an AirPod out, and turns to face me. He looks like shit. Tired, like he hasn’t had a good sleep in weeks. I feel mean for thinking it, but I’m glad he’s getting just as much (little?) rest as I am.

“I’ve got somewhere to be, Iris. Now’s not a good time.” He may be facing me, but he’s not really looking at me. Fucking infuriating.

“It won’t take long, please. It’s kinda important.” Fuck him for making me plead to have a conversation - this is starting to feel a little humiliating. I can feel the tears forming and threatening to spill out, but he isn’t looking at me so he doesn’t see them.

“Not now. There isn’t really anything for us to talk about. I have to go, I’ll see you later.” And with that, he’s got his AirPod back in and is walking away. Fucking dick. The hot sting of rejection sits heavy in my chest, and I have to take a few minutes before I feel steady enough to drive home.

I work myself up pretty well on the way home, moving from shame to anger. I kick my shoes off in the entryway and slam my bag down, feeling like I need to scream. I decide a run will suffice and quickly change into my running gear. As I slip on my shoes and grab my running belt I decide there’s something I need to do first, and pull my phone out to send the riskiest text I’ve ever sent.

Iris (7:58pm)

Hi, asshole. I have been working up the nerve to talk to you for weeks, but since I apparently don’t deserve even five minutes of your time I guess this is how you’re going to find out.

I attach a picture of the tests and hit send, and then immediately send a follow up.

Iris (7:59pm)

Before you have the fucking audacity to ask, yes it’s yours and I’ll be keeping it.

I immediately put my phone on do not disturb and start my watch so I can track my run. I hit the pavement with a vengeance. My feet feel heavy beneath me, and it takes me longer than usual to feel warmed up enough to really run. I blast my angriest playlist, and run until I no longer feel like murdering the father of my unborn child.

I hit my favorite smoothie place on my way home, and call Dana as I walk and warm down.

“So I told him.” She gasps. “But, uh, over text. I tried to talk to him as he left but he blew me off and I was just so fucking angry and maybe jumped the gun a little, but it’s done now. I went for a run as soon as I got home, I’m walking back to my place as we speak.”

“How are you feeling about it, hon?”

“Terrified. Have not checked to see if he’s responded. Maybe a little elated? But like, in a manic way so maybe that’s not a good thing.” Dana laughs and reassures me.

“It’s alright, kid. That’s a big step you just took and you tried to do it in person, so fuck it. You want me to come over?” She asks, just as I turn the corner onto my street. My heart all but stops as I see an unfortunately familiar suburban parked in front of my house, and my breathing stops with it when I see that the man himself is sitting on my front steps.

“Oh fuck.”

“He’s at your house, isn’t he?” She’s far too smart for her own good, or maybe she just knows him too well.

“Yup.” God dammit, past Iris. Did you really have to send those texts?

“I can still come over if you want.” Seriously considering taking her up on that.

“No, I’ll handle him. But, maybe later? If and when I need to cry about this?”

“I’ll be waiting by the phone. You’ve got this, kid. Give him hell.”

[fastandcarlos]

My Worst Nightmare : ̗̀➛ Lando Norris

Your eyes went wide as you watched it all unfold.

Your heart beat faster than it ever had done before.

The feeling of your hand gripping his arm made Max jump beside you as you watched Lando’s front wheel clip against the front wheel of Charles. As soon as the incident happened you saw an aggression in Lando that you had never seen before, biting your bottom lip as he edges closer and closer to Charles’ car, almost inviting himself to get into some sort of incident against the other driver.

“What’s he playing at?” Max hissed next to you, eyes rolling at what he was seeing from his best friend.

“It’s like he wants to go crashing into the barriers,” you murmured, shaking your head in disbelief.

You could picture Lando getting frustrated in his car, eyes rolling, mouth tutting.

But he was the reason that he almost crashed out of the race. The only person responsible for any potential accident was Lando. The man who promised you every single race that he’d drive safe and that things would be okay.

Max’s eyes stay on you for a few moments as you carry on watching the race. He knows you worry and fret, but he could see frustration in you too. Frustration that your boyfriend was willing to crash so dangerously just because his front wheel got clipped, something you’d seen happen so easily in races plenty of times.

You hoped that would be enough to make him stop.

Lando kept on pushing though, every opportunity he tested the water, keen to try and scrape through whenever even a millimetre presented itself. You struggled to watch after a while, terrified that you’d ultimately end up watching your boyfriend get seriously hurt.

You’d never felt so relieved when the race was finished, watching Lando drive back into the garage in fifth. When he climbed out the car he expected to see you ready to enter his open arms, but instead you remained rather standoffish with him, shooting him a glare.

“Well done,” you told him, your face flat, taking him by surprise.

“Try and be happy for me, yeah?”

“Sorry,” you coldly sighed, “can’t help it.”

Lando walks across and presses a kiss against your cheek before being pulled back to get weighed. He wanted to play dumb, but Lando knew just from the tone of your voice why you were upset with him, and truthfully, he understood why.

He kept looking at you as he finished off race proceedings, hoping for something from you. A couple of times you offered him a weak smile, but other than that you remained with Max, struggling to listen to Lando try and make excuses in the media pen for his erratic driving. Eventually Lando headed off to grab his things, leaving you and Max alone.

Max poked your side to get your attention, “try not to be too hard on him tonight.”

“But he was being stupid Max.”

“I know, but I can tell he regrets it.”

A sign came from you, “what was he thinking?”

“Probably just adrenaline,” Max tried to defend, “maybe he saw something there that we missed.”

The ride home was pretty silent between the two of you, Lando tried to make small talk but you were still unimpressed. You headed back to your hotel room, Lando following just behind to give you enough space. As soon as the door shut and you were all alone, he finally cleared his throat.

He waited for you to sit down, throwing himself down beside you before you could protest.

“You might as well say what you want to say.”

“You’re an idiot.”

Lando chuckled, “I already knew that.”

You shot a glare across at him.

Lando’s attempts to lighten the mood fell flat as you silently scolded him. The tight corners and near misses were part of the job, but what happened today took all of that to the extreme.

“I wasn’t going to crash,” Lando told you, reading your mind and figuring what you were thinking.

“How do you know that?”

“We’re professionals,” he reminded you.

Your eyes rolled as he tried to brush off what you were saying, trying his best to reassure you in his own Lando way.

After a few moments Lando shuffled across the sofa, resting his hand against your thigh. “Maybe things were a little too close for comfort today.”

“That’s the smartest thing you’ve said all day,” you hummed, “being a pro doesn’t mean being stupid.”

“I’m sorry if I made you worry about me.”

“I thought you were going to crash,” you sighed.

“I didn’t though.”

“My point is though, you could have,” you reminded him, keeping your voice firm. “That would be my worst nightmare Lando.”

Your admission took him by surprise, his eyes soften as he looks at you. The hand that was on your thigh moved to intertwine in with your own, Lando moved even closer towards you, nudging against your side. He could hear the hurt in your voice, terrified that your worst nightmare would end up coming true.

Lando squeezes gently against your hand, whispering your name. “Perhaps I let my frustrations get the better of me today, I should’ve been more careful and not risked anything dangerous happening.”

“I don’t ever want a repeat of Vegas Lan.”

“Me too, I don’t ever set out to do anything like that,” he assured you.

You nodded in reply to him. “I don’t know what I’d do if something ever did happen.”

“Hey, let’s not think about that.”

You went to speak but your voice faltered as Lando pulled you into his side. Luckily for you, Lando knew exactly what you were trying to say to him.

“I promise that I won’t do it again,” he whispered.

A smile of relief appears on Lando’s face as the corners of your mouth slowly turn up into a smile of your own. “I hate you for scaring me like that today,” you jokingly told him.

Lando’s head shook as you hit against his chest, trying your best to sound serious through the few giggles that escaped.

“You love me really,” Lando whispered, pressing a kiss against the side of your head.

You hummed back at him, “I do, that’s why I’d hate to ever see you get hurt.”

Lando cups against the side of your face, bringing you towards him for a gentle kiss as if to remind you one more time, he really was alright.

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[watchmegetobsessed]

MAD MAN

A/N: he looked like a snack, his ce vibes were too strong to hold them back

base of the idea was by @harrysblackcoat

WORD COUNT: 1.3k

SUMMARY: You came to the game to forget about the massive fight you had with Harry a few days ago, but your alone time is soon interrupted by the man you've been trying to avoid.

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You weren’t planning to come today. Well, you were, until about four days ago, but then the whole ordeal happened with Harry and suddenly you didn’t want to do anything else than stay at home, cry or either sleep until you forget about the shit you both said. 

It was nasty. You don’t even remember how it started, maybe it was because he got home too late, or was it because you couldn’t choose a restaurant again and it always drives him crazy.

You have no idea what started it, you only remember how bad it got. Screaming, shouting, saying the worst things you ever did and probably neither of you meant. But you said them and you can’t take them back. 

Maybe packing your stuff and leaving wasn’t your best idea, but you needed time and space. Harry has been blowing your phone up ever since, but you feel like you need just a little bit more time away from him to think about… well, the two of you. 

You’ve had the ticket for months and you didn’t have the heart to miss out on the game just because of what happened. So you pulled yourself out of your depression cave, aka your old apartment you still haven’t sold since moving in with Harry and came to the game. Now you’re sitting in your usual seat, waiting for it to start while trying your best to keep him out of your thoughts at least until the end. 

Looking across the stadium you see the VIP section and immediately, you fail at not thinking about him, because you think of how he is the kind of man that would be standing there, sipping on something fancy and expensive. 

Groaning you turn your attention to your drink, playing with the straw, but then you remember the time you explained to Harry why this is your favorite seat in the stadium.

“Okay, enlighten me, baby,” he smirked at you, pulling you to his lap after pushing himself away from his desk.

“It’s close to the exit, I can leave before the crowd gets moving, the toilet is 20 seconds away and the line is always short, because the one by the F stairs is more popular. And…” You peaked at him, checking if he was still listening and there he was, giving you his undivided attention with a cheesy smirk on his handsome face. “And the drinks are better in the buffet that’s behind.”

“Better?” he chuckled. “Baby, they are the same.”

“Nope,” you shook your head. “It’s less… watery.”

“Mm, if you say so,” he smirked and then kissed you, making you forget about what you were talking about just a moment ago.

You need to blink your tears away. You promised yourself you wouldn’t be crying during this game, that you wouldn’t think about how much you miss him and how even despite the fight you love him more than anyone. 

You dig into your bag for a tissue, right when someone tries to squeeze past you to their seat. The tall man inches into the row, his long coat brushing your knees while you’re still elbow deep in your bag and you faintly register that he sits beside you. 

“Here,” he deep voice speaks up beside you and you know who it is even before his hand moves into your view, holding out a tissue. 

“What are you doing here?” you ask, taking the tissue without looking at him. 

“Why do people come to football matches?” he asks back and you can’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes. “I’m here because you wouldn’t answer the phone.”

“That might mean that I don’t want to talk to you,” you casually reply, staring ahead of you.

Harry exhales sharply beside you and his knee presses against yours, making you gasp.

“Y/N, I hope you didn’t think I would just let you slip out of my hands like that, right? We need to talk.”

“And you thought a football game would be the best place for that?” 

“This seems to be the only way to get you to talk to me, so yeah.”

“How did you even know I would be sitting here?”

“Because you told me this is your favorite seat.”

“I did not. I just told you I have one, I never told you it’s this one.”

You sit in silence for a bit, trying to figure out if maybe you did tell him the exact seat, but you get to the same point: you didn’t.

“I never told you, so how did you know?” you ask and finally look at him. His beauty strikes you, as always, the chiseled jawline, the slope of his nose, the curly lashes, he still takes your breath away. 

He runs his tongue across his lips and then looks at you.

“The drink,” he then finally says.

“What?”

“The drink. It really is better here.” You watch him and he continues. “I tried… I tried them all in the stadium and it really is less watery.”

He tried them all. He went around the stadium and tried them all to figure out where you’re sitting. 

“Now that you’re listening to me, can we talk?” he then asks with a soft smile. “Or it could be just me speaking, but I really want to tell you what I’ve been thinking about the past few days.”

“Okay,” you breathe out. “Talk then.”

His gaze lingers on your face, as if he is taking in every tiny detail before speaking up again.

“I fucked up, Y/N. I said all those terrible things in the heat of the moment and I regretted them right away. I didn’t mean any of them.”

“Not even when you said that all I do is get on your nerves?” you find yourself asking.

“You do get on my nerves, Y/N,” he says and you’re just about to open your mouth, but he is quick to continue. “You make me go crazy in the best way possible. With your silly dancing in the kitchen, the way you sing every song with the wrong lyrics and swear your version is the right. When you get mad at me for using words you don’t know the meaning of, or when you put me in my place when I’m being a total ass… you make me go crazy… for you.”

Your eyes are tearing up again and when his hand moves to your knee you lean closer to him, wanting more of his touch instantly. 

“I love you, Y/N. I never thought I could love someone this much, but you just always prove me wrong,” he chuckles softly and your hand finds his on your leg, your fingers locking together. “Please come back. I’m nothing without you. Come back and get on my nerves every day because I want to be a mad man, but only if it’s you who makes me crazy.”

Now you’re fighting the urge to cry like a baby. You love this man and you can’t imagine a day when you won’t. 

“I’m sorry too,” you whisper, tears rolling down your cheeks. He reaches up and wipes them with his thumb. “I didn’t mean it when I said you must be fucking all your assistants at work.”

“That hurt,” he smiles bitterly.

“I just… I still wonder why you chose me,” you admit with a shrug. 

“Because you’re the one for me,” he simply answers, as if it was the most obvious thing ever. You take a deep breath and exhale it shakily before leaning in and kissing him. The game starts right when your lips meet, but all the screaming and clapping tunes out as you’re back in the arms of the man you love. 

“Do you want to move to the VIP section?” you ask. 

“Nope,” he smirks down at you. “This really is the best seat.”

“See? I told you!” chuckling, you just pull him in for another kiss before making yourself comfortable with his arm around your shoulders.

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